The Deed
by FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Ahzrukhal orders Charon to kidnap the "young smoothskin" of Vault 101, however things don't go as planned...Not that things normally do in post-apocalyptia. complete
1. What I want you deliver

The deed was done. The reassuring sound of a body thumping on the floor confirmed what didn't need confirming.

He wiped off stale alcohol from his hands on his leather pants, frowning as he did. The ghoul he had just tossed out had been covered in beer, after Ahzrukhal smashed a full bottle over his head. The reason?... he didn't know, nor did he care. It had not been the first time and more then likley not the last the man would give some drunk ghoul a concussion.

Charon had not been paying attention when the 'accident' occurred and only when his employer yelled for his assistance did he turn his attention to the scene. It was, now that he thought of it, rather amusing. Considering what he had for entertainment these days it was probably the funniest fuckin' thing he'd seen all month.

No sooner had the deed been done and he began to settled back into his corner did Ahzrukhal give him the 'come here' gesture with one finger. The slimy ghoul's elbow was on the bar, leaning into the dirty counter with eyes suspiciously on the door. For some reason the gesture alone instilled a feeling of utter disgust in him. His 'employer' was nothing less then the epitome of sleeze and moral degradation. He couldn't look any worse.

Though despite these feeling of hatred he trudged up to his employer, standing in front of the 'now' empty bar. Ahzrukhal didn't look at him as he began to speak.

"Got somethin' I need you to take care of for me." The ghoul still looked at the door. His bony fingers began to drum on the counter passively.

Charon for the first time registered that the bar was empty. The whole place.

_Getting rusty..._

He looked back at his employer. Something was up..and not every day bullshit either it seemed. If Charon still had a prominent brow line it would have arched as his interest peaked. The ghoul before him seemed keene on not being over heard, or caught talking about what ever he was about to order him to do for that matter.

"It's going to take you out of Underworld for a few weeks… or a month." Ahzrukhal gave him a weird eye, looking him up and down with a shrug. "It's been so long I don't even remember how well you fared outside.." The ghoul began to snicker.

This was common when dealing with him in 'conversation'. The 'evil bastard' always seemed to find something humorous about Charon's situation as his obedient pawn. He glared at the ghoul, watching him quit down. His shoulders bobbed with the remnants of a silent laugh.

_Asshole...needs a few teeth pulled…_

It had been over 60 years that Charon had spent cooped up in the Ninth Circle with him. With the 'evil bastard'…..

"You remember that sweet young 'smoothskin' right? "

He knew which one he was speaking about. Not the other female 'smoothskin' whom had arrived a few weeks ago, but the 'too clean' vault girl. The one that had been at the end of every sexual comment Ahzrukhal made. He remember her, though... how could he forget...

"Yes…how could I forget." Charon spoke with disinterest, where as Ahzrukhal spoke of her like a starving man speaks about a juicy steak.

"Well, she's got a little something I want..ha ha...Something I know a very rich man wants..too….." the ghoul trailed off, his hand touching his chin. He rubbed it with raised eyes, looking especially greasy in that moment. No doubt, sick thoughts of the girl and him were swirling around in that rotted brain of his.

He knew already, the reason Ahzrukhal wanted her. The past few months, off and on, he had been slipping in sexual innuendos when the Radio mentioned her name. It was well known that he wanted her under the bar with his dick in her mouth. In fact the whole of Underworld may have known his intentions towards the 'smoothskin'. It was quit disgusting actually..

He even went as far as to suggest Charon was a fag for not wanting to...'get up on that' as he put it. It had been over a hundred years since Charon had fucked a woman and after the first 10 years it wasn't such a big deal anymore. He couldn't give two shits either way at this point. A warm gun was his happiness. Ahzrukhal on the other hand, seemed just as eager as any man to 'wet his whistle', wether it was consensual or not.

"Looks like you already know what I mean, don't you..", it wasn't a question but Charon nodded anyways. The sleazy ghoul grinned, brown rotten teeth looking even more grotesque behind his twisted lips. The ghoul truly looked like a zombie then.

"When?" Immediately after he spoke a 'customer' walked in.

"Tonight…" Ahzrukhal spoke looking at the customer, giving off an even bigger grin when the Underworld resident sank down in a stool to the left of Charon. "What can I get you...friend?" He ignored Charon, placing a forearm on the bar and tending to the 'soon to be drunk' who looked just as happy as any other poor sap in Underworld.

With little to no sound of annoyance, Charon eased his way back to 'his' corner. The sound of his employers 'banter' became less audible as he began to slip into a almost alternate state of consciousness. It was a skill he had honed over the decades to drown out the useless words he spewed forth. As the sound of Ahzrukhal dealing drugs began to dim he pictured the face of the 'smoothskin'. He imagined her face bloody and bruised, tears falling down her face. Despite his celibacy he still had a weakness for women.

A small part of him almost hoped that he wouldn't even make it to her. Maybe he would die getting there, or even more ironic, she would kill him when he attempted to kidnap her. Maybe death would be a welcome treat in the end... Either way his conscious was doing good on not letting his mind rest. In a few hours, when Ahzrukhal debriefed him, he would be on his way.

Despite all the reasons he had to feel pity and hatred for the 'smoothskin' he was now beginning to feel remorse. Hell, he had not even done anything yet and he was already grieving. The feeling wasn't foreign to him, but he was slightly surprised that he felt the way he did for a stupid dame like her.

_Broad better be made of steel.._

He grouched. If she was as 'god-like' as Three Dog and his radio made her out to be then she should be able to hold up her own. At least she ought to be able to. Once he was given the order he wouldn't be able to hold back one bit when it came time to detain her.

In the midst of the busy hours, between noon and eight, Charon stood peacefully in the yellow drenched corner. Back when the 'smoothskin' first came around here she attempted to engage him in conversation. He remembered it, surprisingly, as if it were yesterday. She came in looking truly beaten. After a few drinks she had sauntered up to him, giving him a interested look. He was used to it. He was a giant compared to the rest of the patrons and no doubt she was curious of that.

He smirked, thinking back to her.

The first words she spoke to him were directed towards the poor condition of his shotgun. Before she could continue he interjected, telling her off in his own way. Her persistence at first was 'cute'. It didn't take too long for it to turned down right loathsome. He growled at her then, pushing her off on Ahzrukhal, refusing to speak to her.

That was the last time she spoke to him. He got one more stare from her before she left but that was all. Two minutes later and he began to feel...drained? He couldn't thinking of a proper word to describe the sinking feeling he got. At the time he figured he was just caught off guard by her attention. That feeling slowly turned to a dull ache. It formed in the bottom of his stomach sank down further...

For the first time in twenty years he'd found a reason to 'beat his meat', and 'beat' it he did. After the 'boss' retired for sleep he found himself in one of the shitty bathroom stalls, whacking himself off to the thought of her. It was the last time he had really thought of her though... After he came in his hand the shame and embarrassment seemed to keep her locked out of his mind. It was a one time fluke it seemed, since then he hadn't had an urge to give himself any relief.

* * *

The last drunk was shutting the door behind him. The bar was empty, at least for the moment. The look Azrukhal gave him was enough for his legs to start moving. He again trudged to the bar, fingertips on the counter.

"Take these.." he placed about 50 caps on the counter in a little ratty pouch. "...if you run into any 'problems'...see to it that you use these for an emergency." The ghoul before him sneered as he also laid a box of shotgun shells beside the caps.

"I expect you back in three weeks, with the floozy..." his smile turned more lecherous, if that were possible as he finally made eye contact with Charon.

"You get her back in good shape and maybe you can have a taste...you seem like you need a morale booster as of late."

Charon held his tongue in between his teeth.

_You need a taste of some lead mother fucker...not pussy.._

"A little pussy will brighten any man's day..." Ahzrukhal stared at his 'slave', almost daring him to make a rebuttal, "...wouldn't you agree?"

The 'evil bastard' needed, despite the fact already being known, to remind him in every way, big or small, that he had no say or sway in any matter. He was to obey and smile while obeying. The 'evil bastard' 'ruled' with an iron fist.

"Whole heartedly..." the words felt sticky coming out of his throat and he remained silent afterwards, placing the caps in one pocket and the shells in another. At this moment he couldn't wait to just get the hell out of the goddamn bar. It would be a welcome treat to be far away from his employer, even if the end result of his absence meant coming back, with a innocent 'package'. It was selfish, but in the end the result would be the same, so why should he feel guilty for wanting to get this done and over with…..?

He stood still, staring at the half empty whiskey bottles on the shelves behind Ahzrukhal's head.

"Well…! get the fuck out and don't come back until you nabbed that bitch!" the ghoul growled and began filling up a glass of whiskey.

Charon glared at the poor excuse for a man. The ghoul began drinking his drink, acting as if he had already left. Slowly he began his leave, trying to seem as unenthusiastic about leaving as he could muster.

"One more thing…", he heard him drawl.

Charon could imagine him swirling the contents of his drink around as he spoke, "…..if I find out you've 'touched' her…without...'my' say-so...I'll kill you." The words held malice, but they were also quit calm and calculated. No doubt he would indeed kill him..

"Understood…" he spoke with nearly the same tone as his 'employer'. The ghoul didn't seem to mind, he heard the clink of glasses.

This bar would not be missed.

With a final wave of distress he opened the doors and left the dirty ghoul to tend to his bar.

* * *

Review if you'd like. Tried to re-work the grammar, but I think I'll be getting a beta.

So... what do you think? Not that same old, 'FLW owns Charon' situation. Hopefully its successful.


	2. Oh Daddy

Second chapter up and running...trying to work on my grammar. Let me know what you think. Oh. Enjoy too.

It took four minutes flat for Charon to reach the Museum Metro Station. The chain link gate was barely visible in the darkness and not even the wind managed to swoop down below the cement stairs. All in all it was an ominous atmosphere that only filled him with a hesitation he could not afford. It wasn't a great feeling, being in that spot with the obstacles before him. Being a ghoul would make this much more difficult then it already was….and that saying something… When he got out of the tunnels he would need to figure out where she was exactly..Ahzrukhal didn't know where she was any more then he did.

Even though it was redundant he made a protesting grumble, staring at the insides of the Metro through the triangular mesh.

The gate squeaked and rattled when he opened it. The noise was grating and almost foreign on his ears drums.

He slated his eyes, the few lights in the Metro felt blinding, and the cool air unnatural. Perhaps this was Ahzrukhals way of getting rid of him…so to speak - In which case the ghoul may have been a genius.

"A mad one…" Charon whispered to himself. Something he did more often then he liked to admit. Talking to himself was better then talking to most of the communicative beings that he was forced to associate with.

Despite the fact that the Metro seemed abandon Charon knew better. Anything could be lurking around the bend and the last thing he wanted to be was off guard. Little sounds bounce off the walls and grew with each echo, making it impossible to imagine being anywhere but below ground.

_Might as well not delay the inevitable.._

He placed one foot in front of the other, not really paying attention to the act of moving…just…..moving. Instead of dwelling on the action he let his eyes roam over everything, every chair, tin can, rubble heap, and shrouded corner.

At least by the time he made it out of the tunnels, if he ever made it out, he would have gained his bearings back. He felt more then a little rusty, being so out of his element that the sluggish heart in his chest began to palpitate. Rarely did he ever feel his heart, even though it did beat just like a smoothskins. It always seemed to just sit in his chest, making itself near unknown until something truly horrifying happened.

This was going to take awhile...unfortunately..

Along with his shotgun and his accelerating heart rate, Charon trudged down the slope to the boarding area. The area seemed empty. The light, if that's what you could call it, only illuminated enough to not trip over every empty whiskey bottle and dead raider.

He stopped to glance down at a dead, headless, male raider. For a moment he gave the area around him a once over. The missing head was no where to be seen.

Again he looked back at the headless body. It looked more then fresh, the blood had not finish coagulating completely he noted. He couldn't help but feel a familiar wave of uneasiness encase him. Though…in all likelihood it was a feral that kill the man - In which case….he shouldn't worry himself. The feral's never showed him anything but mild interest.

He sneered while stepping over the corpse, noisily making his way down a broken escalator. Rubbish clanked down the 'steps' to the bottom, making any even louder ruckus. The sight of the headless raider seemed to have given the ghoul a strange feeling of peace. The feral ghouls wouldn't be an issue and the raider's…..if they were down here, wouldn't be much of a problem either if they couldn't even hold their own against a feral…..or two.

So…all in all, Charon made his way down the tunnels without the nagging feeling of dread, or that sense of looming doom. In fact... he felt rather confident, considering an hour ago he was more then apprehensive.

It didn't take long before he was, according to the signs, in the Metro Central area. No feral's were waiting around a corner or crouching in the darkness. No raiders, no rats and no roaches. In fact, the only things he saw close to that where already dead and nearly unrecognizable. He got the feeling someone had already cleaned out this part of the station. It smelt much more bloody then the rest of the place and definitely looked like an old battle field. Splatters littered the walls and something that looked like handprints trailed on the floor.

In the corner by the bathrooms laid two very dead mole rats. One of them looked too disgusting, its eyes popped out, bulging. He kicked that one aside and knelt down by the other one. He cut a few decent sized pieces of meat from its hind legs and breast. The action caused a ripping sound as the meat left the corpse.

It was gross, but he would be hungry soon…

For a moment he thought of eating it then and there. Raw. He could have, and not suffered any ill side effects. The image though made him think of a feral… a true zombie. Charon didn't want to feel like a zombie...so instead he wrapped the 'steaks' up in a dirty cloth and tied it to his waist.

He stood. The metro map was glowing to his left and with a few glances he figured out where he needed to go.

Surprisingly, he narrowly avoided getting lost. One of the metro tunnels had caved in, filled with chunks of cement, and he was forced to find an alternate route to the Dupont Station. This new direction added another two hours onto his trek, but with patience and good direction he found his way on the right track.

It must have been morning by now, or afternoon. He couldn't tell. It was easy to let time slip by down here and for all he knew it had been two days already. The time limit he had was beginning to bug him. The idea of Ahzrukhal trying to be rid of him was becoming more a possibility the more he trekked.

"Scum…" again he spoke to himself, but he didn't whisper this time.

All of a sudden he heard a 'bang'. Immediately he threw himself against a wet wall. He was in the main unloading area for the Dupont Metro…..he should have known better then to make more noise then necessary, especially when he hadn't check the area for signs of life yet.

_Idiot…_

Something clinked and the sound of…something plastic rolling on the floor sounded off. Footsteps followed the noise.

"Come out! Come out! Where ever you are!"

_Raiders.._

He was fairly hidden, a glowing Nuka-Cola machine was blinding him from view, but the….female?... raider sounded close. Next room, close…

His teeth clenched on instinct and he raised his shotgun. The chamber was full and ready to reek havoc if the need arose….and arose it did. He was poised and ready as the crunching footsteps drew closer. The anticipation was killing…

He managed to quench the thumping of his chest just as the sight of a 32. Pistol rounded the corner. With the metal gleam were dirty fingers, a hand…an arm outstretched. The figure of a roughened up female raider began to tip toe by. A grim smile was plastered to her face. She didn't see him.

In a matter of seconds she aligned herself perfectly with Charon's cocked shotgun. He fired into her matte pink head of hair. Her face began to turn as he pulled the trigger, which made for an amazing shot as he blew the top of her skull clean off.

Her head didn't explode like he had thought, instead as she fell her brains leaked out on the dirty floor. That smile she had was ironically still there, expect it was loose with gnarled teeth showing and tongue beginning to peek out. She resembled a soft boiled egg, her yolk slowly spreading on the ground below her.

It was over relatively quickly, no more then a few seconds after the cat call she gave, she now end up dead on the ground..

If anyone could have scalped someone with a shotgun it was Charon, cause the raider below him surely looked scalped..He stood, still in the cover of the vending machine with blood splatter running down his face.

For a few moments he felt oddly hollow, staring at the leaking woman...as the seconds passed though, a more enjoyable sensation began flittering up his limbs. The feeling pooled into his trunk and up into his head.

_Oh yesss…_

The killing was beginning to take on the similar traits of any 'upper'. His heart raced, in a good way, and his mind felt full of cotton and stuffing.

With the barest of smiles he whipped most of blood from his face with the back of his hand. His hand left a face that now look lustful in a way. He was beginning to enjoy himself...finally.

With a sick crunch he stepped on the raider's head, walking on instead of over the corpse.

"That's it.." he grinned rubbing the bloody boot on the ground. He left a few bloody prints in his wake but in the capital wasteland…who really gave a fuck?

He had made his first kill of the journey; it was just what he needed to pull him out of his more lax state. Now he was feeling the burn in his veins, being well on his way to his old self again. Oh...and he was loving every second of it.

"Cocksucker!"

Her knuckles where blistered already, broken now probably as her blood mixed with his. She struck the 'near' rapist in the nose. The action resulted in a wet crack and a loud yelp from the man below her. She was pinning him down by sitting on his chest. His legs kicked, kneeing her in the back a few times.

"Whos…Fuckin..!.."

She was naked from the waist down, thanks to the 'handsy' fellow under her, who would be a dead fellow in a minute.

"Who..!" she screeched "...No-oWW!"

He had a scalpel sticking out of one eye, which she managed to do first, and she was working on smashing his face in with her tiny fists now. Again she smacked and again she punched until his cries were drowned behind the gathering of blood and mucus. He was dying, but she didn't care.

She gave him another punch, feeling his skull crack with the force against the tile floor. With a last minute of homicidal lust she grabbed the scalpel imbedded in his eye and twisted it, pulling it out along with his bloody eyeball.

He made a horrific whimper as she did this but in the end the action wasn't as relishing as she thought it would be. She wanted him to scream….but….he seemed unable to...now..

"Thought I woul..d..be fun….huh?" she sounded winded now…unlike before when he was still making those pained noises.

He didn't answer of course. If he wasn't dead now he would be soon. His chest rose and fell unsteadily though… he wasn't dead yet.

She lifted herself up, leaning over him. The junction of her thighs, the place he had tried to get a taste of not a few minutes ago was now very near his face. She picked up a revolver that landed a foot behind his head in their struggle. Again she eased herself back down on his chest inhaling deep breaths in her exhaustion. Slowly she checked the gun...three bullets…She cocked it and placed the barrel at his lumpy temple. She placed a palm over the man's face in an act to shield the blood splatter from getting on her….and with a loud bang she fired.

The shot rang loud in the small space, filling her ears with mild pain.

Her palm felt wet as the shield did its job, well…to an extent. Little rivers of blood ran down her right shoulder and arm, some on her knees and thighs, but the large chunks seemed to miss her. Bits of brain and skull landed around the once intact head like a halo.

Her eyes where slit, mouth as well. She didn't look like the young girl that left the Vault 6 months ago..now in her state, she looked far from innocent.

After 10 minutes she moved, legs straightening as she lifted herself off the dead prick. He was a raider probably, but she couldn't tell now that he was nearly unclothed. He was like that when she woke though…all ready for what he had prepared to do.

Finally she wobbled over to the gurney she woke up on, bracing herself with hands on the green bedding. She was hunched over as her stomach turned. The feeling of nausea was peaking as her head swam. She groaned, the feeling was too much...

With a heave she expelled her previous meal…snack cakes…with it stomach bile, that tasted worst then the raiders tongue did. Again she heaved and gagged, her body shook and eyes leaked down, joining the puddle of vomit.

"…oh…" she sobbed, tears falling in quick succession down her cheeks, "…daddy…."

Well? Too gruesome?


	3. A headache and a headache

Alright third installment, no rondevue yet, next chapter yes. I'd like some feedback also, not sure if the last chapter was a sucess or not. Let me know how this one flows, I did half on caffiene and the other on something more relaxing.

Even a 'i like' or 'i hate' would help. Any-hoo enjoy.

* * *

Orange light shown through like dots of sunshine as Charon came to the exit of the Dupont Station. The exit was finally in sight and if he was lucky...this was the last Metro he had to go through until the trip back. He turned his head to the side, catching a bleak sign on the column just before the chain link gate.

_'Thank you for using Metro Station, enjoy your visit.'_

The irony was there but he ignored it, eyes turning to the outside world as his hand pushed the gate open. The last thing he expected as to have a 'nice' visit. The sun was nearly set, making the sky look orange...rusty and more then a little apocalyptic.

It was beautiful though, compared to the dark dankness of the underground Metro. Anything, compared to that stale air would have been refreshing; even the hostile wasteland that greeted him now.

The air tasted dusty and phosphorous. Like the inside of a volcano…which Charon was able to compare.

With a deep inhale he closed his eyes. The hard part was just beginning.

He exhaled slowly. A quick flash of the 'smoothskin's' face appeared behind his eyelids. She was bruised and battered, looking less stable then the dust that flew with the wind. A wave of guilt found him again, not as bad as before but still noticable. Since the beginng of his journey he had been battling with the emotion off and on, every now and then it would reach his surface with a vengence...smacking him in the face, but his body ignored it even though his mind couldn't.

The stairs that lead up to the D.C. ruins was short, only about twenty five steps. He looked out across the vast area. Buildings crumbling to his left and right...he could see another Metro Station up ahead of him. The place was dead silent, except for the whistling of the wind in between the cracks of rubble.

Charons face looked bleak and dismal. His eyes moved around in every which way, checking out things from afar. Nothing..

Nothing but a few pieces of paper and filth moved in the distance, the wind sweeping them up into little dust storms. He stayed still. What did he expect anyways…? Super Mutants would keep out the majority of humans…expect the strongest humans.

With a tug he unlatched his shotgun, holding it against his thigh casually. He fixed his eyes on the station about four hundred feet ahead. Slowly his boots began crunching, one in front of the other. It seemed…at least as of late, something else was causing him to move forward. Despite what his mind said his body would move on its own at times. As if this 'something' was sneaking behind his back, controlling his mind and...getting away with it.

Before, he never dare go against a command, not that he was now…but he definitely wasn't excited about this one and it seemed 'something' was picking up the slack, helping him complete the command. Like a brainwashed pup..he frowned deeply.

The sky held only a few slivers of orange and brown when he found his way to the West Dupont Station. There, another Metro map was avialable. It was damaged though and barely readable. He didn't see Farragut North Station at all on the map...was that not where he needed to be? He grunted. This lack of proper direction was begining to agitate him. He hadn't gotten lost yet but given this rate he would be at some point...and the last thing he wanted was to be lost in those tunnels..

He would never have admitted it openly, but he always feared turning feral down in the depths of the Metro..it seemed an unlucky place for ghouls...

He couldn't wait for this tunnel shit to be over with. The only thing he thought of now was how unpleasant it would be to drag the vault girl back this way, bucking and screaming. Maybe he could find some alternate route…when the time came...

* * *

After wreching up everything but her intestines, the vault girl began looking for a way out of the dump she was stolen to. The man she'd beaten to death was long behind her now, though the feeling of what he'd tried to do lingered all over her body. Made her itch. She touched her arms, they were sore, bruising already probably. Her pants had been ruined, ripped down the middle when he'd attacked her – So… she stole his.

They hung on her, despite her full hips. She'd tightened them on with an unfashionable leather belt she'd found in another room. The material smelt as if the man had pissed himself too many times..

_Has he never heard of detergent...? Foul fucker._

With hands that looked permanently stained with blood, she pulled her hair back as if to put it up…..but..along with her pants the brute had managed to rip her hair tie. Now the long filthy hair was in her way. It clung to her sweaty cheeks and nape of her neck.

It felt disgusting.. She could only imagine how dirty she looked then..bloody, grimy...smelling of piss.

The area she was in, based on the countless upturned desks and broken computers, was some sort of office building. Though now it looked more like a slaughter house. Any room that wasn't filled with broken machinery was filled with gore bags and body parts. In one hallway she passed through there hung a mutilated corpse, dripping and stinking more then the dead should. She thanked that she'd already emptied her stomach earlier.

Her brain was firing on all cylinders, with eyes and ears more then alert. Now, after spending the past 20 minutes searching for a way out, she came to a sudden stop. The cause of her halt…? was that of voices.

It sounded like two men conversing, but the words were muffled and no matter how hard she strained the words made no sense. As if they were speaking their own language. They could have, for all she knew. Then again, it didn't matter. Not like she was planning on learning their speech habits any time soon.

Normally she would have walked right in and taken them out, but she had no weapon, no stimpaks, and nothing that great on the side of armor. She was fucked in a sense of the word and all she could do now was find a way around them. If it came to it, she was confident she could take them with just hand to hand combat. She was good with her hands, but they probably had weapons…and her fists weren't 'that' great, bullets would shred her hands down to the bone.

She inwardly groused, the thought of 'running' away with her tail between her legs was not appealing. She wouldn't survive thou if she didn't use her sneak skills to her advantage this time. So...like a good little girl she sucked down her pride with a stiff upper lip. It was survival, pride didn't have a say in it...

With no sound at all she pulled herself from the door cover and crawled her way past the opening. The radar on her Pipboy showed three but her eyes saw two. She stared at the backs of the men. They didn't look like raiders, but they weren't part of the Talon Company either. She guessed slavers…

They didn't move, not until she was nearly out of sight and even then all the one asshole did was pick his nose; making a primal grunting noise as he did.

_Animal..no better...no better..._

Before she knew it she was at the end of the hallway, relishing in her triumph with a small smile. A copper glow flittered through the glass part of the door infront of her, leading her to beleive it was a way outside.

As soon as the door shut behind her she ran. Bolting was a good word to describe her movement. The sun was almost past the cliffs, but shown with furry right in her eyes. She was nearly blind as she ran, ran and ran. Her heart pounded and felt close to bursting as she strained her leg muscles. All her willpower was center at the legs that carried her ever forward. Even though her knees felt close to exploding she kept galloping.

Her breath came out as loud as a scream, the pants she wore loosened quickly but her hands held them tight. Her eyes began to adjust and with the sun setting it was getting easier to see ahead of her. She was running to a train car. A lone, habitable train car..

A quick glance behind her and the building looked actually quit small. She'd run a good ways away and so far no one had followed her.

She looked back at the train cart and let out a scream.

The scream was loud but it died halfway through as she ran right into the side of the train cart. She hit the metal siding with a hard thud. Her forhead dented the metal covering with a scary sound. The metal shook and rattled as she bounced off it and on the dusty ground with another sad sound. It was the last thing she saw, the graffiti covered side of that train cart...the little dent her head made...before the lights went out.

She lay in the settling dust, out cold. The sun finally set and shrouded her in darkness. Hopefully, with luck on her side, she would remain undisturbed by the time she managed to wake. Which…considering how hard she hit the train, could be…quit…..awhile.

* * *

Charon, after kicking away a pesky feral managed to find himself exactly where he needed to be. The feral ghoul made a hissing noise but didn't hang around much longer, it pitter pattered off down a darker part of the Metro. It didn't do much to garner such a harsh reaction from him, but they reminded him too much of unhappy things. So...the sniffing and increasing intrest of the feral caused his previous aggrivation to tenfold. He snapped and had kicked it, causing it to yelp and hiss.

He looked away from the dark corner the feral had retreated to. He was sick of being down here.

"God'mn..visher buge..r...bacds rannn...nn" he muttered under his breath, continuing his walk.

The signs lead him where he needed to be. Arrows pointed to the Red Line stations and he followed.

Before he knew it, well...sooner then he expected he'd found himself infront of a very good sight. The sign that indicated the Farragut West Station.

_Bingo._

He couldn't help but smirk, the corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes narrowed. No more Metro Stations...at least for now. His feet couldn't move fast enough it seemed. He nearly jogged his way up the broken escalator and practically ran through the Boarding platform. He slowed when he came up the exit ramp. He was feeling good. So good that the bodies of dead ferals didn't seem to bother him. Infact he stopped to loot one of a few caps before leavining it sprawled in the middle of the entry way.

The end was in sight, through the dome lights that shown down like beams. As he walked forward he saw particles floating against the light, dust and microscopic filth..it made him want to stop breathing all together, made him look even more forward to the outside air. So.. when he found himself outside, in the capital wasteland, the first thing he did was swallow a huge lung full of crisp air. Well...as crisp as air in the wasteland could be.

He serveyed the area, water ahead of him, a statue...he squinted. It was morning twilight and his vision was less then adaquet. Indeed he was where he needed to be, but..where was he to go now? He let out a sigh and sat down on a bench, something he rarley had the pleasue of doing. As he sat, his legs began to tingle and twitch. The feeling, he knew, would only get worse if he didn't get moving soon.

It would take him a solid three days to get to his next destination, the onslaught of Deathclaws and Giant Rascorpions slowed down what he thought was a good pace. The Super Duper Mart was where he landed next. On the way there he happened by a traveling wastelander. He didn't shoot him on sight so he took that as a sign of peace. They chatted, Charon heard some gossip and even a tip about the 'smoothskin'.

If the wastelander was right then she wasn't too far.

He'd spend the day in the Super Duper Mart and start fresh come night fall. The rest would do him good..

* * *

The wind swept her greasy brown locks over her face, the dreads lapped at her neck as her eyes began to shift under her lids. Slowly her eyes cracked open, before she even saw straight the pain swam up into her forhead.

"Oh..." she moaned in nothing but pure pain. It felt as though...she dared to open her eyes wider...as though she...

Her eyes settled on the dent that her head had made...as though she ran into a train...

A tear ran down the side of the face as she closed her eyes, the pain was unimaginable. Her heart beat thumped in tune with the thobbing in her head. It would have been comical, if it hadn't been happening to her. She chocked on a sobb as she rolled on her side. Her hair stuck to her mouth and chin as she coughed and shook. She tried to lift her body up but only managed to cause herself more discomfort.

She needed to get herself in the train cart.

Even in the midst of pain she realised it was only luck that she was still alive. She didn't know how long she had been out, but by the blisters on her arms and cheeks, she must have been out awhile.

After a few more attempts she manged to crawl her way to the doors of the train. They, thankfully, where cracked and it only took a few pushes to open them. It smelt, and it was hot. She saw bones pushed up under a seat in the right corner but nothing else.

Like a dying animal she lifted herself into the tain and lay flat on the floor. At least, she smiled, this part was cool enough. At this angle her eyes landed on a white box, stuffed in the darkness of the seats with rubbish covering half of it. Her smile turned straight, a white box...

She reached out and pulled it to her, it was a first aid box, not just a white box...

Her mouth opened and out came what could have been called a laugh. She choked on her laughter as she reached out and hugged the box.

"Oh...yesss..." She closed her eyes.."..thank you..."

Inside she found not one, not two...but three stimpacks and a much needed pack of radaway. It was her lucky break, and goddamn was she appreciative. The only thing left to do was fix herself up, at least for now.

It felt like forever since she'd last smiled this wide. Her luck was greater then she had orginally thought. She figured it would have run out by this time. Thankfully it was still running strong. At the end of a long sigh she pulled herself up into a sitting position, the seats digging into her shoulder blades with a creak of cheap fabric.

She stuck the needle of the first stimpack into her neck, it hurt, but the pain vanish along with that in her head as she pushed down on the plunger. Again she sighed, leaving the needle in for a few more moments before pulling it out and tossing the empty syringe to her left. It rattled under a seat, the noise echoing. The throbbing in her head began to decrease as she poked the other stimpack in her right arm. The third one she pocketed along with the radaway. She had no way to dose herself with the radaway...unless she wanted to drink it...

She pulled the orange glowing pouch from her pocket and gave it a few jiggles. Her eyes fixed intently on the object of her need. The contents swooshed and vibrated in her hand. Could she drink it? She gnawed on her lower lip, mulling it over.

The worst that could happen..? She would vomit..? She didn't like the idea of vomiting though. She gulped, her throat still stung from the acid she'd hacked up. She gave her Pipboy a glance, her radiation poisoning was not yet at a dangerous limit, but it would slow her down considerably. Making her potential prey for anything from mercenaries to packs of vicious dogs... For a moment she imagined being ripped apart by a number of hungry thin mutts. Their teeth...sharp rotten teeth tearing fingers...then limbs off.

Her stomach turned. The thought of being mamed was all she needed to down the baggy. With a wince and a wrinkled nose she ripped the radaway pouches top and brought it to her reluctant lips. It smelt acidic and burned her nostrils like sulphur. Homemade concoctions always scared her, what if they didn't mix the ingredient right..? What if it...

"No..just do it..." she calmed herself with a silent mental checkup and began to down the contents in a hurry, much of it missed her mouth and covered her chin and neck in orange dribbles. She coughed on the last drops and dropped the empty bag as she began taking gulp fulls of air. It was horrible, it tasted like urine smelt and made everything it touched feel unatural. Immediatly she regreted drinking it.

'click...beep...beepbeep'

She thumbed her Pipboy, taking her mind off the stinging in her tastebuds.

Her belly began to rumble as she smacked her lips and mouth in a mushy way, trying to push the lingering taste around. The green glowing screen below her read her vitals, the orally taken radaway had worked. Oddly enough...so she clicked on her world map.

The map didn't help her as much as she'd hoped. Her eyes settled on the closest marker. Super Duper Mart...her lips drooped, frowning. She didn't have any supplies hidden there, and..if she was remembering correctly, she didn't leave much behind either. 'Cleaned' the place out, so to speak.

She let out a frustrated noise, letting her head fall back on the seat as her body scooted forward. The last thing she wanted to do was move, move...her eyes shut at the thought. No, she needed to move. If she passed out here she may never wake up. The heat alone in the train would cook her from the inside out. The thought helped her move. Funny how the thought of death got the last remnants of survival fueled again.

Perhaps, if she was lucky she'd be able to head straight to Megaton with out needing to take a stop at the grocery store.

If her luck hadn't ran out yet that is.

A final sigh and she was up, standing, her feet taking her out the train cart and into the wastes. The breeze felt damn good and she actually smiled. She aligned herself in the proper direction and headed forward, keeping a lookout and being ever vigilant. Right now, she was weaponless..

"I'd kill for a nuka-cola at this point dad..."

* * *

Well.. has anyone ever seen a power struggle go down in a grocery store?


	4. Fancy meeting you here

Sorry for the long wait, well..long for me anyways.

Thought this one through a bit, hope its as successful as I think it is.

Thanks to XHellXGeistX, InkiBlinkiPinki, LillyWhiteRosePetals, Kingoftheplankton, Candence Of Her Last Breath, Harlequin in chains, TempestHeart (next chapter she will be beta-ing for me), Death's Whisper, Ninth Lady, Nemesia, cally777, Ki, Basique Demique, and roelka. I really appreciate them. Now.. enjoy.

* * *

In the few moments before consciousness, Charon's dream and the commotion of reality became one. The banging translated to bombs dropping in his mind. He didn't dream much, barely having enough time to sleep most of the time. So when his rare, unpleasant, dream was interrupted and his eyes fluttered open, the first thing he felt was relief. Not fear for the possibility of any number of the wasteland inhabitants killing or maiming him, but good ol' fashion relief.

So he sighed and rolled off the poor excuse for a mattress, eyes blinking as they focused on the humming refrigerator. His eyes widened as another large rattle echoed through the store. His heart beat began accelerating. In those few seconds he snapped back to the present; to a reality where dreams were pointless. He was in the Super Duper Mart, not in a dream anymore.

As silently as he could he pushed his back against the counter. He had hunkered down behind what was probably once a frozen meats section. He was hidden well and had a great view of the chaos that was at one time, a grocery store. It was ideal.

Though now he didn't know if giving himself a peek at what was causing the sounds would result in anything less then his head blowing clean off. He wouldn't tempt his chances, not now. Not when he'd already gotten this far.

It was silent for a few more moments and he took that time to think up a strategy; one where he wasn't the one on the floor painting it with his own warm blood.

The store was big, but from the sounds, the intruder didn't know or care he was here. The person must have been stupid to not check first…he almost smiled. Perhaps the twit would go down easy, or the twit didn't mean him any harm, in which case he didn't have orders to kill innocents. Not this time.

With a little adrenaline high Charon wrapped his bitten fingers around his shotgun barrel and held it close to his person. When the sounds got closer he would shoot then, he wouldn't waste his bullets searching the scavenger out. All he needed was to be patient.

* * *

A few empty tin cans fell to the floor and she paused instantly. Her eyes darted from left to right, again and once more before resuming her eating. She gulped down the last sludgy bits of a can of pork n' beans, holding back her gag before washing it down with a few swigs of warm beer. It wasn't the worst combination…..she grimaced…..but it was up there, near the top of the list.

_Right up there with stomach bile and snack cakes..._

Her eyes watered a bit as the taste lingered in her mouth. She felt better though, regardless of the shitty taste.

She set the can on a shelf and carefully walked around a corner, sipping the beer as she went.

Even though it was tempting to talk to herself, she held in her words as she picked up a bag of potato crisps. They were stale and overly salty, but better then the pork n' beans.

Ever so often she would stop and look around. It seemed empty, and if someone had been around then the noise she caused earlier would have stirred them…right? She knew people could be sneaky, waiting for the prime opportunity to strike. However, all she had was a baseball bat and that wouldn't do much good against a gang of stab happy raiders.

With the bloodied weapon hung over her back and the beer still in hand she eased her way over to where she remembered a fridge being. It would have at least something she could really sink her teeth into, that wasn't dog…

The lights flickered above her but it didn't bother her, the place seemed abandoned. Just the way she left it. It even smelt the same, even when the raiders were stinking up the place..

To prove her point she yelled, "Hello! Ladies and Gents...!"

She hauled her upper body up over the counter, peering in, seeing nothing. She smiled, feeling more and more alone, in a good way. She continued to talk loudly to the air, pulling herself off the counter and leaving one hand on its surface.

"..On behalf of 'whats-his-name'...we ask that you vacate..." her hand dropped from the counter as she inched to the hallway.

Her voice stopped echoing as she eased into the tight corridor. On either side were archways that lead into separate rooms.

"..please be sure to pick up your belongings near the vending machines...thank you..."

She was smiling widely now. It was the little things, she contemplated, that lightened your mood when all else seemed hopeless.

The bat was in one hand now as she stopped outside the archway. Here she saw the glow of the fridge. "..and have a pleasant day..." She smiled and chugged her beer, wondering what it would have tasted like fresh and new. She stood, swallowing the alcohol, thinking of how a lot of things would have been before the war. Would the sky have looked different, the trees...? The feeling of being cheated out of contentment crossed her mind; laughing at her and all the while she tasted the warm, flat, gritty beer.

* * *

_A woman..._

He heard her yell and soon after speak, but the sound was shrill and ridiculous. He frowned. His body was pressed on the wall a few feet from the archway. He was poised and ready, where she seemed the opposite. Was the whore stupid or something..?

His shotgun was against his chest, already loaded and cocked.

His eyes fell to the floor where her shadow lay, looking thin and comical. She was drinking?...and holding some weapon. He even heard the motions of her throat as she swallowed. He himself gulped; from her shadow he based his attack.

It moved and with it he tensed.

In an instant he decided to not shoot her, from the yell he realized she was a woman and he never liked killing them. It was a stupid moral, considering women could be the most ruthless, but he accepted it as a flaw and lifted the shotgun with the butt pointing up, readying himself.

As soon as the first few strands of her hair and the tip of her nose came into view he thrust the butt of his shotgun down onto her right temple. It was a sick sound but he didn't hear a crack. She didn't even make a sound, before or after he hit her. Just swayed and began to crumble to the floor. The bat fell and rolled off to the other side of the room.

He grabbed her, holding her up with one strong fist. Slowly he eased her down on the floor by the side of her shirt with little trouble. She was light..maybe too light. Her body sank into the floor like a dead person, but he knew better.

"Your lucky I'm no murder…stupid girl.." he spoke looking down at her. He kneeled and rolled her gently on her side. Her eyes were half open, just the whites showing. He must have hit her harder then he thought, though he saw no gash, no blood.

Roughly, even though it wasn't intentional, he pulled her hair from her face. A few strands caught on his jagged skin and they ripped from her head. He frowned deeply wagging the strands from his fingers with a shake, another drawback of being a ghoul; one more thing to add to the growing list.

He began to stand, but he stopped….he turned and looked at her face again, the darkness shrouded it, but…

He grunted just for the pleasure of grunting as he hoisted her up against a counter, an area more illuminated. Her head had lulled into her shoulder with his action. She looked like one of those dolls...raggedy anne...yes, she looked like a rag doll. Her hair fell into her features again. His sharp fingers grabbed at the side of her face, pushing it into the falling light. The hair barely moved in its filthy dreaded state. She smelt of blood and urine... he was only vaguely disgusted. Not that he smelt wonderful...

His eyes ran over her face and for a moment he didn't think he knew her. Only when he wiped some of the dirt and matter from her nose and cheeks did she begin to look familiar. Minus the blood and grim and she even looked pretty...

As if he had been burned he withdrew from her, the action cause her to fall on her side, slowly. He stood straight and took a few steps back all the while keeping his eyes one her face.

It was her..

_..so this was luck.._

She wasn't in as prime a condition when he'd last seen her but sure enough it was her. A few pounds lighter and a few bruises older as well; weather bitten and more then a little sick looking. He swore he saw ribs from the material of her shirt, which was thin and riddled with holes. He stared, not being able to ignore the peaks of hard nipples under the thin material. For a moment ideas of coldness, bras and effects of a concussion ran through his head. He turned shaking the image of young breasts from his mind.

Knowing now who she was he began a search for something to bind her with. Hell.. he would have done it with surgical tubing if he found some. Even his own belts if it came down to it, though they would be easier to get out of then he'd like.

Even though it was stupid he left her, slumped against the counter, hoping she would stay out cold by the time he came back. Besides..he would hear her if she woke, and with the lump he left on her head it would take awhile for her to get moving; awhile for her to gain her bearings.

In the adjacent room he did indeed find surgical tubing, but no rope or cord. It wasn't his first choice but it would be painful if she tried to pull free of her bindings, which...was a good thing. Limiting her struggle would be a plus of course. He paused..he looked, from this angle he could see into the room he had left her.

She wasn't there. He took three big strides, and he was in the room. His eyes darted every which way. She was gone. She was actually fucking gone.

_No..no..no...no..._

"What the...where.." He turned on his heel as he heard a distinct human sound. His eyes had not yet settled on the pale fists that gripped a baseball bat. It was her but how did she get behind him so quickly? In an instant she had already hit him and was pulling back for another. It hurt..and for a moment he was blind. Pure white blindness and then stars.

She managed another smack to the side of his neck which hurt worse then the one he took to the head. He still had not seen her face, just the bat and her little fingers that held the weapon with a death grip.

"Ha! Haajj...", she swung again but his arm got in the way as he shielded himself, "...ha!...", again she turn for another smack. The bat ended up in his hand, and with one tug the bat was wrenched loose from her grip. He felt a wave of happiness to have ridden her off her weapon. A few more smacks and he would have been the one waking up with his limbs bound tight.

In the darkness he heard her stumble and saw the shadowing outline of her pushing herself back from the wall. The bat clattered to the floor, the sound mingling with the noise of their struggle.

She began to paw at him, one of her nails caught on his cheek and ripped at his 'flesh'. He groaned, blood dribbled down his face as he slammed her against the hallway wall, not thinking to be gentle anymore. In return she made a breathy noise as he knocked the air out of her lungs. For a moment he felt bad about hurting her, which he immediately regretted as she took the opportunity to exude all of her strength in bringing him down to the ground. She was successful...and he fell backwards with her landing on top of him.

"errnn...shit!.." he managed to grab both her arms before she managed to assail him with punches. She tried to use her elbow on him but he too made that difficult. For a few moments she couldn't move and for those few moments Charon had thought he had won this little squabble. It was silent but their breathing for exactly 5 seconds, at the end of those seconds the girl from the vault brought her head back...and then down, with great speed. She slammed her forehead against his with a bone-against-bone slap.

They both made a grunt of pain, but he got the worst of the blow. With the hit against his forehead and then the ricochet against the ground on the back of his head he could only mutter with agony. She was no push over and he for a moment felt lame for underestimating her. It was a mistake he hoped wouldn't cost him more then these bruises.

It seemed though that she had given herself a concussion, she wobbled above him...or was that his vision?

No she was indeed stumbling, near falling on him. Her head swam and it felt like her ears were stuffed with sand. She looked around trying to find something to concentrate on. It felt bad...and...she looked down at her would be kidnapper. In the light of the room on her right...or was it left? she could now see him. She knew he was a ghoul but he looked...he looked...

"...y..your...Ch..charon?...wa.." she felt sick, her throat tightened and mouth began to salivate, preparing for a possible wrenching.

He stared at her in blind pain. All he felt was the pain though, thanking that in his ghoulish state he wouldn't suffer from brain damage like she could and most likely would. He didn't think she'd recognize him though...their meeting had been brief...and uneventful.

"..." , he didn't speak. Her face was shrouded and he couldn't really see her expressions, couldn't see anything but her outline and her eyes. Those eyes looked scared and confused though, and faded. He felt hands on his chest, they where heavy and made it hard for him to breath but they weren't harming in any way. She was supporting herself, trying to not fall.

"...wh..at an...as..shole you are."

Her voice was very quit and shaky. He knew this was his best opportunity, it was cheap but it was commanded of him. As her eyes lingered on his face he slid his hands from her arms, secretly enjoying the feel of the bare flesh, down to her wrists, squeezing as he rolled her over in a flash and gave a precise punch to the side of the head. It was over in that last punch and she went still under him. This time, at least he hoped, she wouldn't wake up for a good while.

In that dark hallway, in that position he became as still as she was. Now he looked at her, she was in the light like he had once been. Blood fell around her head, the gash in her temple was, he figured, from his sucker punch. Yes, he regretted it, but even though his mind said no, his body said yes. Every fiber in his body screamed to punch her, to tie her up and hull her over his shoulder to deliver her to his employer. For what..? for Ahzrukhal to burry his sick prick inside her, then when he got bored sell her off to another.

This wasn't how he'd hoped he'd feel when he got her, or maybe he hadn't realized how much he'd hate himself when she was indeed captured, certainly he had not expected it to happen then, so soon. Not like this...

* * *

What do you think? Dissapointing or Awesome-o?


	5. How to cross a river in a lake of hate

Tension begins to build, like everyone has come to expect. I couldn't wait for TempestHeart to check my grammar and spelling. (have stuff to do this week that will keep from from the computer) So enjoy this...longer chapter. Review if you feel like it, they tend to squeeze the writing out of me quicker. Thanks to Ninth Lady, Basique Demique, LillyWhiteRosePetals, jane-al, and LaDeeDa for those comments. Love em'

* * *

After dragging her out the hall, across the room, and against a wall Charon then decided to give himself a once over. A quick checkup that resulted in nothing too severe. He brushed the pads of his fingers over his cheek. The blood was almost dry but still sticky center of the gash. She got him good.

Again he poked his flesh wound. It stung but the pain in his head was what he was more worried about. He did his best to ignore it as he got down on his knees in front of the vault girl.

She was pretty, even with the filth and the smell. He frowned giving her a good look over before padding the fabric of her pockets. Didn't want her pulling a knife on him later. He stick a few finger in one pocket where he felt something hard, instantly he pulled back. Something had pricked his finger.

He leaned over her, using both hands to pull the needled object from her pants. It was a stimpack...for a moment he had thought it was psycho. It would have been just his luck if he'd have to deal with a junkie on top of it all. Thankfully, it was something he could actually use for both their benefit.

_Smart girl…at least in this area.._

He examined it in the light, it was unused. It wouldn't work on him, even if he was a selfish bastard and chose to ignore her possible concussion. With a 'pop' he uncapped the stimpack and leaned over her. He could smell her, under the stale piss and dirt she smelt like water. Clean water...it was odd.

It was even stranger, being near her now. It had been so long it seemed since he'd been this close to a woman. With a wave of pervasiveness he pulled her hair back from her neck and gently stuck the needle in, just under her jaw line. She was truly out cold, making no move what-so-ever as he injected her. One, hopefully, would be enough for now. He'd have to gather up food for her after he was done binding her.

He loathed the prospect of her waking up, no doubt she would be asking questions. He secretly wished he could continue to knock her out, inject her, knock her out, and inject her…until they were in Underworld. Until he could be rid of her and the weird feelings she caused. It would be better, normal even, when he was sitting back in his little corner, at the beck and call of his employer.

He only hoped Ahzrukhal wouldn't make him...watch…

With a grumble Charon began lengthening out the surgical tubing, it was long enough but he'd be short on either her feet or wrists. He pulled back from her and stared. In the surreal light, he watched her for a few seconds, obviously the hands would be better to bind, but he couldn't stop staring. He wished he could have washed her face, give her fresh clothes, clean her hair…it was stupid.

This time he growled. He grabbed her hands, purposefully being harsh, as he began to wrap the tubing around her wrist. It proved more difficult then he thought. He had to untie and retie her hands for fear of them falling off. He settled with a looser bind that was effective but wouldn't cause her to complain more then she should.

Her legs would have to wait. With the slack that was left, which he cut with his combat knife, he pocketed. He could use it later. Never knew when it could come in handy..

He stood and without taking his eyes off her he unbuckled one of his belts. He tugged at the loops, the action causing his hips to thrust. The last time he took his belt off in front of a woman was not to enslave her against a work bench, but that would do little good thinking about now..the threat Ahzrukhal made rang clear.

_'…..if I find out you've 'touched' her…without...'my' say-so...I'll kill you.'_

Not that he would think of touching her against her will...even though it was constant thought.

With a heave and a grunt he swung her over one shoulder, one thick arm coiled around the backs of her thighs securing her to him. The workbench was in the next room and that's where he was headed. On the journey he bumped her head on the wall a few times, each time he winced for her. It was dark, he told himself, not his fault.

In the adjacent room he laid her down on the counter, pulling her bound wrist up and pulling the belt through them. It didn't look comfortable but she wouldn't suffer needlessly.

He looped the belt around and under the upper part of the benches leg, making sure to secure the belt tightly between her bound wrists. It wasn't, again, the best way to secure her, but he couldn't think of anything else at the moment. Again he found reason to blame Ahzrukhal, the bastard didn't give him much to help him complete his quest. After the last tug he stepped back, looking at his handy-work.

She laid half on her chest and half on her side, facing him. He'd pushed the hair out of her face once again. _Why would she keep it so long...?_ It couldn't have been worth the trouble..still..it was another thing that gave her a certain...quality. He snarled then, thinking about her 'unique' qualities wasn't going to get him anywhere he wanted to go. He didn't need to be playing the sucker role...not now. With a final once over he determined that she wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon and then proceeded to stomp out the room.

_Smoothskin needs food..fuck'it..fucking food.._

_...fuck_

He shook his head in a manner he may not have done unless he knew he was out of eye sight. The thought of the journey back was all but calming. It was terrifying. The goddamn ghoul hadn't ordered him to keep his hands off the girl; just threatened him. It was conceivable that Ahzrukhal had done that on purpose, just to make his kidnapping that more unbearable; that much more pleasurable for the bastard.

The very thought made his blood seethe.

He imagined having the cock suckers neck in his hands, slowly applying more and more pressure. He envisioned his eyes bulging, the veins puckering until both eyes poked out. Charon froze, in the room with the fridge, looking at nothing in particular. In his sick fantasy he'd throw him down like the piece of trash he really was, finish him off with a squish of his boot.

A smile came to his face. Maybe..one day he'd get to do something along those lines; something..memoriable. As long as that 'something' included mass blood letting he would be content. Satisfied.

"Then let the birds skull fuck him..", he could leave him out to rot like the rest of him.

In the fridge he'd pulled out a few packs of salisbury steak and some yum yum deviled eggs. It would have to be enough...He didn't have the stamina to carry multiple cans of shit as well as the girl, if she didn't behave...that is. He didn't think she would, maybe even hoped she'd fight back.

As he did this he began to hear rattling and then...yelling.

She was awake.

He wrinkled his features even more as he stuffed the food in a small distressed sack. His eyes narrowed as he turned to look in the direction of the noise. She made another yell, it sounded more angry then scared. Awkwardly he placed her bloody bat in the sack, the handle and more sticking out. The sack was heaped over the counter, in the main room for him to grab later. In the mean time he had to find a way to get her either unconscious of complacent; both options sounded difficult.

He took long strides and in seconds he was standing in the archway..looking at her. She spun her head to him, teeth showing and spittle shining on her lower lip. She looked pissed, it almost caused him to smirked, though he suppressed it.

She gave a hard yank against her restraints, the bench strained under her struggle but remained solid. Her eyes burned into his.

"Why?" she barked at him, giving a few more less confident yanks. He for a moment was at a loss for words. His mouth began to part, to speak..but she was smarter then he thought.

"...Ahzrukhal...", it wasn't a question. She knew. Why else would he be where he was, with her...where she was...tied up and at his mercy. Azhzrukhal had ordered him to kidnap her, or...he was free and decided to hunt her down for his own purposes. That scenario, despite being terrifying as well, was definitely more appealing then the first. She knew though...it was the first...

Her eyes didn't loose their fury but she directed it down to her knees, knowing that the ghoul before her now was not the one she truly wanted to slaughter at the moment. Who knew what the slime had in store for her. He was as cheap as they came, and she couldn't vamp her way out of this one as easy as the others. She was well aware of the reputation Charon had, he was more then good at his job...and only loyal to his employer. She frowned, the anger turning into anxiety.

As if he knew what she was thinking he spoke, "Not gonna be able to talk your way out of this one smoothskin. Even if I would have let you..." his voice sounded void. The words sounded harsh but endearing, however the tone held nothing. Like he really was brainwashed. A million ideas began buzzing through her skull, all of which wouldn't work in helping her escape.

She wanted to say something, but she just glared. They would have plenty of time to talk...unless she found a weak spot she could exploit. _He had to sleep sometime..right?_ Her eyes shut and she took in a silent but deep breath. When she opened her eyes back up he didn't seem to have change his persona. Just looking at her like the dead, maybe that was his angle.

"...How did you know I was here?", she figured she was the one with all the luck, or maybe he was just that good of a hunter. "..you been following me lon-", he cut her off.

"Just coincidence..", even in the dimply lit room she saw the corner of his scarred lips lift, "...or luck, but not skill this time." He stared at her, she yanked at her wrists again in an aimless attempt, they looked raw already. He began to step closer to her and the bench, slow and careful. She looked more like a cornered animal now then a human girl, and cornered animals could be surprising...

As soon as he got a foot from her, her leg swung out, "Get away!", the kick settled deep in his side. "..No! Fuck..g..get!" He grunted, surprised at how quick she stuck him, but not at the action itself. Of course...a blow like that was inevitable since her legs where free to do as they wished...at the moment. Before she could get the other leg moving he had her shins in his hands, crushing them to the counter with unnecessary force. He grunted and she whimpered, she was hurting...but so was he. It hurt to breath, later that night he'd have trouble keeping the two broken ribs steady. He hunched over her lower body, breathing deeply.

"Damn..."

_Girl's no pushover...shit.._

Secretly he enjoyed the amount of fight she had, even though his ribs ached. For him to go all this way just to get a girl who didn't even put up a fight would have been disappointing. Not that he wouldn't have enjoyed an easy trek back...he slowly turned his head to hers. His eyes dragging in their sockets as they settled on her.

She wasn't looking at him, her body had stretched in her last ditch attempt on him and her arms were straight above her head now. She looked embarrassed somehow, her cheeks looked like they were burning and she had her lower lip in her mouth. He ignored it, as well as the presentation of her upper body.

"Unless you find some way to slit my throat, you're stuck with me, girly...Get used to it...", he sneered at her. She'd turned to look at him as he spoke, watching his face become more malicious with the last few words. It was the most she'd ever conversed with him, and it wasn't going how she'd originally thought. She'd been all too enthralled by him when she'd first seen him. Thinking that he'd be excited to have a girl as pretty as her talking to him, but no. Up until then men, and even some women openly showed their interest in her. Maybe the attention had made her cocky...and he'd seemed less then interested.

Now he was leaning over her, pining her down and she probably reeked of piss and old jizm. What an image of picturesque she must look.

In the dank room she remained silent, lost in her thoughts. Her brain was still recovering from her episode in the office building.. She had a good understanding of what Ahzrukhal wanted with her, and the idea made her stomach knot. It tumbled in her body and made her nauseous. She didn't want to be sick again.

"..o..kay..", she hated herself for how meek her voice sounded, how uncertain and scared. Immediately her face became overly stern as the pressure was slowly eased off of her.

He left one large palm on her thigh, the action foreign, as he began to unbuckle the belt easily with one hand. His shadow engulfed her while he loosened her of her restrains. He kept his eyes off her face, she did the same. The whole conversation felt awkward and tense. He uncoiled the belts from around her bounds like a snake, taking a few steps back. He looked ready to dominate her again if she made the wrong move...

She lifted off the bench, spine cracking, it felt very stiff but she kept her face a mask. The bones in her neck popped as well as she settled into a sitting position. Keeping her hands in her lap, fingers tightly entwined...so much so that he saw her knuckles go white.

"The sooner we get moving..." he reached his hand to her restrained ones, she flinched, "..the sooner you can gut him..." She looked at Charon then, he looked semi-serious. "..that is...if you've got any dignity left." She didn't fight back when he took both her wrists in his hand, pulling her gently off the workbench and leading her into the dark hallway. She didn't protest when he grabbed the burlap sack, tugging her harshly to him. Nor did she object when he walked past the area she'd left her Pipboy. She just followed him, knowing it was futile, at least for the moment.

* * *

It was mid-day, and even the wind did little good but blow hot, sticky air in their faces. Her eyes leaked and she would pick at them with both hands as they filled with sand from time to time.

The weather was odd, clouds were gathering and the gusts became small sand twisters. Charon didn't seem to be bothered, or care. They had said little to each other since leaving the Super Duper Mart. Which, she figured was good. She spent her time thinking of ways to make her big break. Should she do it now, or in the tunnels. In D.C. or wait for an attack and make a run for it. All her ideas had too many risks and she couldn't think of anything that was even remotely possible, without finding herself bound, weaponless, and more importantly...completely vulnerable. In those scenarios she realized she was better off with the ghoul then alone..on her own...it was quit sad really.

She made a pained noise as sand blew into her eyes again. She stopped to rub her eyes, only to be grabbed by Charon and yanked forward. He was incorrigible. For a few minutes he kept his hold on her forearm, pulling her blindly forward with him. _How the hell could he see? _The sun...on top of the sand was enough to bring a super mutant down, yet he drug her ever forward. Soon he let go, leaving a finger pattern of small bruises behind.

He glanced at her. She looked pitiful, a sad comparison to what he saw before in the grocery store. The heat was getting to him too though, he couldn't ignore the headiness he was beginning to feel. Thankfully he could see the 'river' up ahead. Just beyond it was the Farragust West Station, once inside he figured things would go a bit smoother. She did little but complain so far. He glance to her again, constantly checking on her. She looked distressed but she could handle that..._she better handle that._

A few rocky descents later and they both stood before the edge of the radiated scar in the ground. It smelt sulfurous and looked to be steaming..he wouldn't have been surprised in this heat.

She came up to him, a couple feets distance between them, her eyes were down casted, possibly looking into the water or at her feet. He couldn't tell.

"You might wanna untie me down...unless you want your 'precious' delivery drowning.", her tone was bitter. He couldn't blame her though, however her words were almost laughable. _Untie her for what..? So she could undoubtedly use that as an opportunity to flee? No fucking way.._

"Your even dumber then I thought if you think I'll be doing that..", he didn't turn his head to look at her, just glared out the corner of his eye.

She made a 'huffing' noise and he saw her turn away from him out of his peripherals. _Childish.._

Without another word he grabbed her wrists. She jerked immediately and stared at him with a look of uneasiness, as he pulled her to him. Not too close, but close enough. He didn't think too much about his plan of action, he just did it. He pulled her up, almost to where her feet scratched the dirt below her. With a bend of his knees and a hunch of his back he got her bound arms around his neck. She sqirmed, her face coming close to his for a moment.

"What are you doing?..ugh.. stop it!", her voice made him growled and with that her struggle became a weak wiggle. Despite his annoyance he enjoyed the effect of fear he had on her.

"I don't like it any more then you do...", he made eye contact with her, almost like a challenge, "this is the only way you and I are getting across.." She calmed and even helped adjust herself over his shoulder and against his back. It may have looked ridiculous then but it was the least of her worries. Least of her troubles to appear to be receiving a piggy-back-ride from a ghoul. As the thought came into her mind she couldn't help but made a weak laugh. It reverberated against the ghouls back and he stilled. Froze.

She felt him freeze, and in turn so did she. The air around then became incredibly awkward and even more quit. It felt like minutes had passed between them, just standing their with her legs wrapped around his hips, his arms under her thighs. Those muscles shivered as well as the ones in her stomach, trying to keep the area between her thighs away from his lower back, at all costs. However, she was the first to break the silence..she made a breathy noise and shifted against him, unknowingly causing him to become more sniff, more wound up.

"...the situation is funny..", she gulped not ever remembering feeling this uncomfortable before, even at the edge of death she'd never felt so...tense, on-edge. "..you know..it's just-!"

She made a little yelp as he began moving into the river. He made a gruff noise and mumbled something she couldn't understand. In a nutshell he had ignored her completely.

The water was surprisingly cold and she couldn't help but moan as it engulfed her. He kept in the shallowest parts of the river, which kept her shoulders above the water, but just barely. He didn't say a word the whole time. She began to dread getting out of the water, the hassle of wet clothes and..she wasn't exactly dressed accordingly. The horror of her white t-shirt began to sink in and her cheeks flamed. The closer he got to shore the more her heart beat accelerated until it began to palpitate.

_Calm down...calm...calm..._

With a deep breath she pushed the tension away, she had settled with the idea that she didn't care. He was her kidnapper and the least of her concerns was him catching a peek at her chest. _Who cared anyways..? right? _The water lapped at her neck for a brief moment and then they were leaving the water. She felt heavy on top of him. Her clothes sagged, especially her pants. It was a nightmare and her uneasiness began to creep back up in her gut. Less then before...but still a worry on her mind.

_1...2...3... ..3...4...5_

He made a weird motion that caught her off guard, her feet hit the ground with a 'slush' and he bent himself awkwardly, leaning and hunching and eventually getting her arms free from his neck.

Before he turned she'd already had her arms precariously over her exposed breasts. Her head was turned to the side, eyes on something she pretended to be interested in. For a moment he didn't move and she began to feel itchy.

He stared at her, eyes on her wet skin, on the fleshy pink under the wet white. A vibration began in his throat which he couldn't help. He hadn't thought of this drawback to his plan..only now did he realized the dilemma he put himself...and her in. He stood there, just as wet as her, just as uncomfortable and slick. The word came out of his mouth before he could suppress it.

"Shit."

* * *

Sucks to be bound by physical needs again...doesn't it Charon...(im laughing)


	6. Each bullets worth one smile

Sixth chapter up. Its comming along so fast it almost seems like the stories writting itself at this point...

...thank and praise TempestHeart for not only un-butchering some of my sentences but also fixing much needed spelling and typos. I can safely say this, with her help, that this will be the smoothest chapter so far. Enjoy and get ready for the next chapter, the balls started rolling in this one and its gonna gain speed in the next.

* * *

"...Oh...", she moaned.

Charon looked down at her as the light began to dim, turning him into a silhouette. She was done bleeding, at least for now. In fact he was surprised that she was awake right now. Intrigued maybe; after losing all that...blood. He winced for her. The image of her gargling and shaking popped into view. It was terrible, but when that moment occurred he was more worried about failing his duty to Ahzrukhal then the possibility of her...dying. Hopefully that selfish emotion was part of his loyalty and not personal.

"Oohh...what the fuck..."

She was peering down at her body from her position, leaning against some broken mattresses and old wet cardboard, it was where Charon had last dropped her. Where he last flopped her after doing his simple surgery on her. Again the image of her convulsing over his lap resurfaced. He stared down at her, watching as the expressions of confusion and utter fear crossed her face. It was a possibility, he determined, that she didn't remember what happened. Didn't remember the events that followed after the first bullet struck her in the belly. Again his face scrunched. It was probably the worst place to get shot in and when all was said and done she took two there and another in her hip. The raiders where fuckin' good shots, he'd give them that much.

"..What the fuck!" Her voice became shaky and her lower lip began to quiver. She wasn't wearing much, and despite the previous awkwardness they had about such an event, now it didn't matter. He could have left her naked and he didn't think that would have been her main concern at the moment. She was preoccupied with the bloody mess that was once a smooth and flawless abdomen. Maybe a few freckles here and there, but immaculate all the same.

She began to make weird croaking noises, perhaps she was attempting to cry? He didn't know...His mouth began to move, the voice that followed sounded calm compared to her tone. "The raiders that...'had'...this hideout put three bullets in your gut..." He lifted his now blood stained hand and pointed weakly to her sewn up flesh, it was raised and swollen, dried blood littered the expanse of her stomach and the yellow of bruises were already forming. His surgery was amateur at best.

"I got them out, but the holes had to be enlarged...", he seemed to pause, as if thinking of something else to say. "...you're out of the worst, just do what I say and you'll survive."

Her thought turned on and off, faded and solidified as her eyes roamed over the rest of her. It was red and marred, dirt clung to the blood as if she had been dragged across the ground. It seemed understandable...she shut her eyes. Tired all of a sudden, so very tired. Charon saw this and nudged her thigh with his boot, maybe harder then he'd intended, but it was successful. She jolted as most she could in her predicament and made a gasp.

He made a 'tisking' sound and shook his head slowly. "You're not going to sleep for at least another five hours." Her eyes lifted to his, she couldn't see his face in the darkness that just seemed to get darker. "...you may never wake up." His voice reverberated in her ears; all she wanted was to sleep. It felt like the last real task she needed to complete. To sleep...just… sleep...

"Ooww..!" Her eyes snapped open, this time he kicked her. He kicked her! She snarled, breathing deep out her nostrils. One of her hands snaked around, attempting to touch the flesh of her belly but it just hovered until the hand rested on the unmarred hip.

"...Stop it.", the first word sounded harsh but the last was lessthan that, even submissive.

He began to move. With the darkness the shadows engulfed him and she could barely see where he began and the concrete hideout ended. Her eyes followed his noise, he shifted to the left...closer to her. Her muscles tensed on impulse and then light! Within a millisecond she could see him, tables by him, the lamp and all the red blood that managed to touch everything. Some was even about four feet up against the walls. Hopefully not all of it was hers...then again, it probably was.

She noted the swollen look of his face and the lopsided line of his mouth. What happened to him..?

"Charon..?", her head turned..too slow, "...raiders..?..where are we?"

He smirked only a bit, she was doing a good job of keeping herself awake, which was a pleasant surprise. He didn't want to be kicking her through the beginning hours of the night.

"In their...former...hideout. We'll be out of sight. I'm fairly certain I killed all of them...and the ones left won't want to come back...anyways."

With a disturbing creak he pulled one beaten plastic chair from the table and set it besides her, close to the light of the lamp. Sitting in the chair was welcomed and oddly pleasurable. He'd been on his knees the past two hours, putting her insides back together. He was mentally and physically worn. Once again the sight of her dropping like a fly, eyes rolling in the back of her head as rounds filled her torso flashed before his eyes. He looked down at her, those eyes of hers, one of which was bloodshot and foggy, stared into his, demanding explanations.

So he told her what she didn't already know.

* * *

_"Shit..."_

_Charon's eyes as well as the rest of his perception was on one thing. 'Her'. His mouth formed a slash across his face as his muscles quivered. The normally functioning brain became disjointed from his body as one boot landed in front of the other. He trudged like a true zombie, but it wasn't brains he was after. They locked eyes, hers wide and nervous and his...predatory. When he got two feet from her, those eyes of hers shifted out of focus, settling on something in the distance off to the side. The shot sounded off before he could get even a little curious at her changing expression._

_Before the noise of the gun shot dissipated she was jolted back by the__force__of the Magnum Revolver. Her left hip was hit. How it didn't hit bone he didn't know._

_The shot exited out the area above her backside with great force. Another two shots were fired in quick succession and landed right below her belly button after her body shifted with the crash of the first bullet. It seemed unreal, and for a second after she fell in the river, he admired the precision and accuracy of the shooter, despite the fact that his 'cargo' was now turning the river red._

_However, after that second of brief appraisal Charon's brain kicked into gear. The first thing he did was pull his own weapon from his shoulder as another round or two fired off besides him, one landing in the river by the girl with a splash. Her head was afloat as well as her legs and arms, but the river was slowly turning color. His throat rumbled as he turned, brining the shotgun against his shoulder and aiming._

_The raiders were up the hill, pouring out under thick cement stairs. A base or hideout, which would be his when they were dead, drying in the sun. There were three of them, maybe more..._

_'BANG!'_

_Instantly his first shot caused one to drop, 'it' tumbled down the rocky hill, loosening rocks and rubble in the journey. With a 'thump' 'it' stopped dead near his feet. Dead as dead could be. He took a second to grin; this was a fight he could relish in. Finally._

_Despite their now dead 'friend' the other two yelled and cajoled while firing round after round in his direction. They missed, terribly, causing Charon to believe he'd already shot the most dangerous of them. The one that now bleed below his feet._

_A shot 'whizzed_**_'_**_ right near him, he could even hear it. It landed somewhere behind him, also away from the girl._

_'Ahhrr.. shit!'_

_He turned to her, she was sinking. He'd almost forgotten about her after the first bloodletting. Quickly, dodging another bullet he galloped to her. Trudging the water in splashes and waves as he waded out to her. All the while two more rounds landed by him, creating small fountains. She'd waded farther out then he'd thought and with one arm he grabbed her around the chest. His shotgun was held up high, out of the water. When he turned to the shore they were there, aiming right at him. Grinning like animals._

_In a feat even he didn't know he could accomplish, Charon brought the girl to his chest and use both hands to aim at the legs of the biggest raider. He missed and the dirt billowed by the man's feet. The action results in hoarse laughter from both the raiders. Despite the fumble Charon aimed again, quick enough to catch the small one off guard and land enough buck shot in the man's crotch to kill both of them. It was comical, the man falling to his knees, grabbing his bloody crotch and then rolling over to die. It was a moment the ghoul relished, but no sooner than the raider fell did his buddy fire more shots. They were close, too close. One ricocheted off the barrel of his shotgun with a 'pang'. It was too close to his head, and he couldn't help but gasp._

_He fired, but the shot must have damaged his gun, nothing came out. Blind panic coursed through him for a moment before he 'snapped'. His eyes turned into pure circles and the water splashed while he brought the shotgun over his head. All his strength was put into the last ditch attempt as he hurled his shotgun in the direction of the raider. It hit. It hit right in the temple of the bastard and caused him to stumble backwards._

_"Take that you bastard!"_

_With the small window of time his legs ran through the muck of the river, slow too slow. The raider was getting up, on all fours now but soon the man would be on his feet with a gun in hand. Charon winced, his legs burned but soon he was dropping the girl halfway on the shore and closing in on the raider. The man was just straightening out with a yell as Charon tackled him. They both fell to the ground with a 'crash', the gun falling off to the side. They rolled and fumbled on the ground like fighting teenagers, taking punches and delivering them._

_One knee landed in Charon's gut and he choked. It felt like an organ burst...but he knew better, he told himself. In an instant the raider had him on his back, stuffing punches in his neck and face. The feeling of vulnerability was an understatement and he felt his ego crumble. Twenty years ago he would have made a hole in the raider skull with one punch, now...he was on his back, getting the pulp beat out of him. He received another hard punch to his cheek and felt a crack...or heard it. He growled and so did the raider, but for a different reason._

_"Gonna take your bitch too! Zombie!"_

_Spit flew on his face from the raiders words, mixing with the blood. His stomach sank._

_"Should I fuck her in front of you? Or should I ju-!"_

_While the raider spoke, planting two more blows to his face, Charon's fingers found a rock. He touched it and pulled it into his palm, the size was...nice. In the raider's last words Charon smiled. Actually smiled while he brought the sharp rock right into the side of the raider's skull. He struck him with such force that the rock shattered, some imbedding in the man skull and some fall down on Charon's belly, dripping with dust and blood._

_He must have hit him good because for a few moment the raider just sat on him, staring and then like a waterfall, blood poured out of his head, thick and poison looking. As soon as it touched Charon he threw the bastard off with the rest of his strength. He wasn't dead yet though. He ignored him as he rolled over, using all fours to support himself before crawling over to the bleeding asshole. Through his limited vision Charon saw the raider's hands, shaky, trying to hold his skull together, fruitless._

_Again, Charon smiled. The pain causing his face to throb made him even more malicious, more sadistic. He didn't want to just kill him now, he wanted to torture him. He wanted to...with one fluid motion he yanked his combat knife from its camouflaged holster. The smile quickly began to transform into a sick grin, maniacal__even. It grew even wider when he brought the knife down, slamming the knife into the man's shoulder down to the hilt._

_"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh...hhh!"_

_The scream turn into a squeaking noise when he gave the knife a...little...twist. When he was satisfied he pulled it out, slowly. Watching the raider thrust up as the knife was withdrawn...was fortunate, he thought. Again he stabbed the raider, in his stomach, in his chest, in his crotch, filling him with holes upon holes that stopped gushing after a few minutes. The fucker bleed out before he died from the pain, it was more pleasurable for the ghoul anyways. Watching him suffer and die before him._

_Charon gulped in huge dry lungfulls of air, which sounded loud in the now quiet space. His eyes wandered on the ground, it looked like a massacre had taken place. Blood in large quantities and bodies they everywhere. Slowly his eyes settled on the girl, his directive. A sick cold feeling ran through his veins as he saw that...her chest wasn't moving. She wasn't breathing?_

_In an instant he'd scampered over to her, crawling like a desperate man. Desperate he was..she wasn't moving, except for what the water shifted around for her. Her legs swayed in the water as he pulled her the rest of the way out, on a flat surface of dusty earth. His breath came quicker now, one eye was already swollen shut but he widened the other to compensate. His hands shook and his fingers twitch as he pulled the wet red fabric of her shirt up over her abdomen. The pants came off after that and he looked away, embarrassed. She wasn't wearing anything underneath and he felt his face heat up. With a last fumble he removed the pants from her legs and used them to, as gently as he could; wipe away the blood to see her wounds. They were large holes and deep. If it wasn't for the sounds coming from her throat he wouldn't have been surprised if she were dead__already._

_He gulped. "Raiders... bastard raiders. Shit." The smell of the blood caused him to turn his head and breath in something a little cleaner._

_"Come on.."_

_He grasped her shoulders, lifting her up delicately and giving her back a few hard slaps._

"Come on!"

_She quivered and hacked, spitting out gobs of congealed blood. Some fell out of her mouth like sludgy balls and landed on her chest. She began to breath, hard and shallow. His hands tightened, fear gripped him. What if she hadn't clear the blockage in her throat, in her lungs. What if she didn't stop bleeding? He gulped again, and it hurt this time._

_Her eyes remained shut and her face sweaty, bloody and too pale. She made an odd moan of pain, the sound managed to get him moving again. He looked her over with the turn of his head, which hurt. He snaked one arm under her knees and another reached around her back, with a few tugs she was against him and with another stretch of his legs she was in the air, cradled in his arms. He strained with her weight, not that is was much, but the blows he took weakened him considerably._

_The normally short walk up the hill became not only hazardous but time consuming. It took him 10 minutes to bring her and himself under the thick cement of the stairs. It was a three sectioned hideout and he easily found himself standing in the middle compartment. It was cooler in the hideout. He looked around, scanning the area with his one good eye before gently laying her down on a mattress, it was dirty and...soggy. Smelt of bodily fluids._

_Her breathing caused gurgling noises to echo in the 'room'. It worried him, as if any moment she would convulse and stop breathing entirely. With a plan in mind he jumped from compartment to compartment gathering up the supplies he needed. A bobby pin, the two stimpacks on the table, rags from the corner, the surgical tubing he already had in his pocket. With all things in hand he settled down by her, picking up the corner of the mattress and dragging her and it into the middle of the 'room'._

_He paused, then stood straight and searched for one more thing. He grumbled trudging around._

_"Can they really...not have it...where..?", he turned and swiveled looking in every corner, all whiskey bottles where empty or smashed. In a crate he found a small amount of vodka, enough for him..and for sterilization. He sighed, but it came out like a growl._

_With a defeated 'plop' he found himself on the ground besides her, his breath was ragged and he gave himself a few minutes to rest. He'd have to be steady to do what he had to anyways..his functioning eye found her, stared at her._

_"What a day...don't you agree...", he realized he didn't know her name. This caused him to frown and look her over, trying to ignore the 'V' down between her legs. He snuck a glimpse earlier and that was enough...with the thought crawling back in his mind he uncorked the vodka and took a deep swig. A swig that instantly calmed his nerves and steadied his hands._

_He got to work. With the bobby pin, which he butchered, he used as a blunt needle. Taking one end and filing it against the concrete floor, fast. With some vodka he 'sterilized' it and began to tie the surgical tubing in a knot around the balled end. With a shift of his legs he crossed them and laid the needle and thread over one thigh. The rags, which were actually clean looking, he set aside. One hand grabbed the vodka bottle and poured half onto her torn belly and hip. He used a little more to rub into his hands._

_Only one of the bullets exited when she was shot and he had two left to remove, he felt like getting up and leaving her to die right then and there. The idea of fishing around in her tummy for bits of metal didn't appeal to him, he was more afraid of it killing her...then it would have been his fault. So for a moment he sat there, needle in hand, looking dumbfounded and scared._

_"Bitch.."_

_It was his final word before he began to stitch up the one wound on her hip. The needle stuck in her flesh and with a 'pop' it slithered through her skin, creating a decent stitch. The hole only took 3 stitches and he was being generous. With the blade of his combat knife he cut the tubing and tied it tight. The rag, he used to wipe off the blood that dribbled down her side and between the junction of her thighs. He ignored the destination the blood took and began to softly pull the wounds in her belly apart. Blood gushed and he again soaked up the majority of it with the rag. The first bullet was shallow and he pulled it out with ease. However, the hole gushed more blood which only worried him more. How much could you lose? It's not like she had a limitless supply.._

_He winced as a headache began to form between his eyes, like a hammer ticking away at his skull._

_Before his motivation left him he went diving for the last and final bullet. It was deep and he touched something that felt like an organ, her intestines perhaps. The bile began to rise in the back of his throat as he pushed the ropes of her entrails aside and hit gold. He felt the bullet and with two fingers he skillfully picked it out and tossed it to the floor. He watched the blood pour out for a moment before hastily pressing a fresh rag into her stomach. The pressure caused the girl below him to begin quivering..twitching. His eye widened and the swollen one cracked._

_This was it, he thought. His eyes closed for a moment, he pulled the now sopping wet rag from her abdomen and threw it in a pile with the other one. He took her waist in his hands and dragged her torso into his lap, her head lulled over onto the ground and her legs dangled off him like the dead. Quickly before more blood left her veins, or her belly, he got to work pulling the skin together and sewing her back. The two bullet holes had torn into one great mismatched gash which he fixed the best he could. She would hate the scar left over but she would survive..well...maybe._

_He cut the slack left over and tied the tubing. What was left on her stomach resembled an 'S'.. or a 'Z' shape. A backwards 'Z', yes, that's what it looked like. His mouth lifted in a weird expression that wasn't happy but wasn't necessarily upset either. All that was left now was time. He had to wait to see how she would react... or recover._

_With the last of the vodka he bathed her freshly sewn wounds, lathering a rag in some excess, and using it to go over a couple abrasions and cuts on her arms and legs. Minor wounds from dragging her around through the turmoil. It was all he could do really, just wipe her face and her skin and keep her...fresh. The word made him chuckle, as best he could anyways. It came out evil and coarse._

_He tried his best to keep his mind awake, his eye open but within moments he found himself on his back, his thighs near her head and rumbles escaping his chest. He was asleep, passed out._

_He didn't wake for a few hours, the sun saying it was the middle of the afternoon. A clatter woke him and he literally sprung into a sitting position, eye wide open and darting around. His throat tightened as he stared at first the broken vodka bottle, then the quivering girl. She was convulsing, seizing on the mattress. Some blood left her stomach, even though the wounds looked to be doing better. As if on instinct, or kindness...he pulled her to him, cradling her upper body in his lap, careful not to jumble her fresh wounds. He hesitantly touched her forehead, it was hot and sweaty. As an afterthought he grabbed a rag and draped it over her lower body. He imagined her waking up and throwing a fit._

_He liked that idea a bit too much and even though he hated nearly everyone, he found...at that moment, as she began to relax in his grasp, that he didn't hate her as much as he did everyone else._

_

* * *

_

"While you were out I found another bottle of vodka." He lifted the bottle at shoulder level and after a few seconds he shook it like a treat. He saw her smile, it was small but it was something. She cleared her throat and began to speak, so softly he had to strain in order to hear..

"I..can't drink, would you pour me...my..in my mouth.", she seemed to being in and out of consciousness still, taking in deep uneven breaths in between words. He immediately scooted closer to her. He brought the neck of the bottle to her lips and poured slowly, she drank, some spilling over her cheeks. Her face was full and shiny, his eyes lingered on her a moment before he pulled the bottle away and took more than a few swigs himself.

His eye fell on her again. She was looking at her stomach, tracing the fabric of the rag over her lower body. The rag was being moved, exposed a naked hip, which his eyes ate up. She made a strange whistle noise and pulled the rag off her, staring at her nude lower body. Immediately she gasped and fumbled with the fabric, desperately reaching for cover. There was a part of him that was amused at the fact that she'd accidently exposed herself to him, not they he hadn't already seen it...and now she knew he had..

"Oh...really.!.?" She frowned looking up at him. "Help me." It was a demand, and he wasn't used to taking demands from anyone other thanAhzrukhal. He'd helped her enough already.. he had, but he couldn't stop his hands from dragging the material back over her. The look on her face made it worthwhile. She was staring at him; the pale flesh now was tinted red around her cheeks and nose. Her eyes shifted and she gulped. He heard it and saw the motions in her throat. Her voice came out soft and sincere.

"Thank you."

'Damn right.' Even though he hated himself for it he smiled...a very small smile.

* * *

Nothing like a near death bonding...


	7. I see through you and the views nice

Things are getting a little more interesting now, thanks to the few of you ( jane-al, InkiBlinkiPinki, and XHellXGeistX ) who reviewed. Hope you like this one as much as the last. :-)

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The moment that followed Charon's smile...was awkward.

He fumed. 'Awkward'...that was a word he was becoming quite familiar with as of late and thinking of it only made him angry. However, despite the atmosphere they had created she continued to look at him with an odd glint in her eyes. For a moment he though she may have fallen asleep with her eyes open, but soon after the thought materialized she moved. Her lips twitched and out of his peripherals he saw her legs shift over the other. Her nostrils flared, the only sounds being her movements against a creaky mattress. It seemed like forever that they just stared at each other...

...then in a surprising act she thrust her fist out before him, open palmed. Her fingers moved, out of synch, wiggling, as her eyes moved from his to the bottle that was resting on his knee.

A low sound came out of his mouth as he leaned and exchanged the bottle with her. They did this for most of the early hours of the night until an eerie quite caused them to engage in actual conversation, which in the end didn't last all that long.

"Can't you use the stimpacks?" Her voice was still raspy and low but he could hear her better now, wether that was because of the night's quietness or a sign of her imminent recovery, he didn't know. He hoped the later...

"Yes, I can... but why waste them when I can just wade in the river..." His voice sounded purposefully dull against her ears, even a little bitter. She frowned more than she already did, not understanding the drawback of healing so quickly by something so readily available.

"I guess that makes sense…"

"...You guess?"

He gave her a demeaning look which she should have rebutted against...if she had the energy; instead she just made a guttural noise through her nose. He didn't seem to care, or realize the tone of the noise as he pushed the bottle of vodka towards her. She gave her head a little shake looking like a small child.

Something in him softened, and for a moment he responded to it with fear before realizing how pleasant it was. Just the lackluster moment of boozing with her gave him the feeling of...Comfort? He supposed it felt comfortable, the feeling, maybe even nice.

He looked around him, searching. The object of his desire had fallen on the ground, by his chair leg. He plucked it up and uncapped the stimpack. He'd used one on her earlier before she'd woken up, after he'd gotten her back on the mattress. He'd even brought in a piece of soft cardboard to shield her body from the wet fluids before he had laid her down.

The memory confused him. It's not like it would have matter to the healing process...for her to be...comfortable. The word made him cringe. It wasn't just something he wasn't used to; it was something he had no recollection of. When was the last time he'd been comfortable or comforted...

He drew a blank as he looked down at the stimpack in his hand, looking melancholy. If ever there was a perfect example...Charon was it. It felt like a snake was slithering around in his head. His mind shot off static that confused and pained him. Not knowing what to do he reacted to it with violence.

With a growl he threw the stimpack at her. It hit her collarbone with a 'slap' and she gave a yelp, cursing him after grabbing at the little syringe that began to fumble down her neck.

"What the fuck!"

It wasn't a question. She was pissed and as minor as the pain in her collar bone was compared to the rest of her, it still hurt, and it still was a shock. A moment ago he was fine, at least as far as she knew. Her teeth gleamed in the light of the lamp as she watched his backside while he disappeared into the darkness. He just hit her and left. Her blood boiled as her fists clenched involuntarily.

_...fuck is his problem..?_

She was not only hurt physically, although not terrible, but she was also emotionally hurt. She was no idiot and she knew he was having mixed feelings about her. He didn't seem like an evil person and maybe his morale was getting in the way of him serving Ahzrukhal. The ghoul could do many things...but hiding the new feelings was not one of them. Or maybe he didn't see the need to hide them since it wouldn't matter in the long run. Not like she could rub it in his face...she was of course still a prisoner. A disabled prisoner, and he was more than likely pissed that she was slowing him down.

For a second she felt her eyes sting, but nothing else came. Her fingers slipped into the holes of the stimpack as her eyes focused on the last place she'd seen Charon. She heard him, faintly, to her left, outside the hideout. She heard the munchof his boots on the ground. Her eyes closed briefly. Before she could be tempted by sleep she stabbed the stimpack into the area above her stitched flesh and in turn, sucked in a deep breath.

It hurt like only disturbing a healing wound could hurt. That sick squishy pain that seemed to ripple into her limps. She pushed the plunger down as fast as she could and slipped it out with ease. Her arms dropped to her side, the stimpack still grasped in her fingers like a psycho junkie. Her face didn't help her addict facade. Her eyes shimmered in relief and her mouth parted; a little shiny spit touching the corner of her mouth.

It was the last one and the relief wasn't as good as she'd hoped. Still it felt better than before, before when she had forgotten what it was like to feel 'normal'.

The minutes passed and the effects of the stimpack began to lull her into sweet sleep. Slow and steady her lids lowered and she did indeed...sleep.

She woke to cursing and hard hands on her shoulders. In her semi-dream state she wondered what was going on...Who was touching her..? The pain followed her into consciousness as her eyes cracked open. Then a sharp pain hit her cheek and jaw. A 'slap' sounded and the flesh of her face stung. She'd been slapped. The pain caused her to groan and reluctantly she opened her eyes fully, staring at the vexed face of Charon.

He looked less **t**han pleased, but her brain only registered the fact that he'd slapped her. On instinct her fist balled and she slugged him off-hand in the bottom of his jaw, almost missing him completely.

The forced turned his head only a few degrees, but he glared at her as if she'd hit him harder. For a moment she feared he'd beat her. If her imagination was stronger she may have expected smoke to flow from his nostrils; that would have matched the look he was giving her now. She saw it, he pulled back to hit her...but nothing came. She hadn't realized she'd squeezed her eyes shut until she began to open them, looking at his confused stance.

He was motionless, fist balled at his side. So close to his side as if he was going to strike her...real...good too. Her eyes shifted and her face lost its color; not that there was much there to begin with. Before she could put on a tough persona her voice failed her and she whimpered like a baby.

He leaned above her, one hand coiled around her shoulder, lifting her up, the other near close to striking her. He stopped before he could strike her, and she was more then relieved.. He didn't know what came over him; thinking of punching a vulnerable woman. He felt sick, literally sick. Those foggy distant eyes of his shifted over her features, over the bruise on her collar bone, then as he pulled back from her, his eyes settled on the fist he'd had balled up. It felt infected, attached to him. All he'd wanted to do was to wake her up. He'd feared she had died while he was having his pity party outside...away from her. He didn't think he'd been gone that long, but when he'd returned she had been unconscious.

He released her shoulder after letting her rest back on the cardboard mattress. He felt like saying something but all he did was kneel to the side of her and stare. She stared up at him as well, eyes glossy and wide.

The stain of red on her face caught his eye, it was onlythen he felt actual guilt. It was evidence. He took in a deep breath and steadied his mind.

"You can't be falling asleep...I told you." He did a good job, at least he thought, of sounding neutral and firm.

"I'm sorry..."

She was quick to respond and he was vaguely surprised. Though, he knew she knew it was dangerous, that she had to stay awake, even if he had to have a meltdown and leave her alone**.** She couldn't just rely on him to keep her alive. It was her job and she knew it. She knew it.

The days went by slowly, at least for her. After two days she had begun prowling the three sections of the hideout. Stretching her legs as best she could and tending to her wounds with the help of vodka and whiskey. For those days she'd been vomiting what looked like black pellets She knew what they really were though, reading about it in a _Medical Journal_.

They were actually bits of blood left over in her stomach. None of it however was fresh and that at least told her none of her organs had been punctured or had healed quickly; she didn't know.

The air between her and Charon had improved over time. He scavenged the area above them near the Farragut West Metro Station for bottled water, ammo...and even just yesterday, a stimpack.

She was feeling better but the ghoul had warned her of moving too much.

What he didn't know didn't hurt him...she smiled thumbing through a _Nikola, Tesla and You _magazine. It was boring...now that she'd read it twice. Her stitches began to itch that morning and for all that were 'holy', she couldn't help rubbing them through her now red faded shirt. The blood had permanently ruined the fabric and now even up to the collar it was tarnished. Tainted.

She licked her thumb and turned a page. A breeze came through the area and blew her hair around. It was cleaner looking now that she'd waded around in the water, but the thought of a bath was very nice. She thought of using the river for one, now that some of the loot Charon had brought back consisted of a bottle of RadX.

Charon was outside in the morning sun, using the light to his advantage as he blew through a part of his dismantled shotgun. He'd found the problem but was spending his time finding a way to fix it. During his little scavenging for the past few days he'd gathered a nice pile of parts to use. If anything it would keep him busy until she was able to travel. He'd already found a shotgun, in poor condition, but he really wanted his old trusty weapon working again. It felt better in his hands then the strangely unfamiliar one he'd pilfered.

Now that the girl was safe to leave alone he'd been making sure to spend as much time away from her as possible. Her constant looks were making him edgy and he looked forward to getting away from her. He could hearher scurrying around; it was calming, which was the problem. He paused; looking around with his eyes squinted. The girl... she was…

He gawked in the blazing sun, what was his problem?

He locked his knees, standing up with determination, and turned to the entrance to the hideout wile keeping his eyes on the ground.

"Get over here." He growled the words.

Soon enough he saw her emerge, slowly, placing one hand on the cement wall. Without warning he grabbed her hand, yanking it off the wall and bunching it up with her other wrist in one of his large rough hands. She made little protest, as this was getting to be common. Him...grabbing her wrists and binding them before leaving her while he left to loot. He wouldn't be gone longer than an hour but already she knew how she'd spend her time.

He buckled the belt tightly around her wrists, the whole thing looked bulking and uncomfortable but it would be taken off when he returned. She didn't look at him, just stared at his fingers as they secured her wrists, the thick reddish brown of the belt, the smell of the dirty leather. For a moment she savored the smell and made a small noise. He paused a moment at the sound but finished with a few final tugs.

He dropped her wrists and left with the functioning shotgun in tow. He didn't see her watch him leave. Watch him stomp up the broken stairs and out of sight. Quickly, or as quickly as a former mortality wounded individual could, she made her way back into the first compartment. Her hands grabbed at the bottle of RadX, fumbling with it at first before popping the lid and painfully swallowing a few. They stuck in her throat and she had to swish spit in her mouth and swallow more thanonce to get them down.

By the time she got to the shore the pills had taken effect. In the hot mid-morning sun the radiated water looked warm... for a moment she hesitated getting in. She had a rag with her, a long frayed one that she would use to dry off. Her smelly clothes needed to be washed too but she didn't think she'd have time before Charon came back.

Her pants she removed, but her shirt she couldn't get off with the situation her wrists found themselves in.

Indeed the water was warm and she secretly enjoyed it despite its chemical smell. Quickly she dunked her head in and shook the filthy hair under water, particles of lint and dirt removed themselves from the stands. She bubbled and gave another few shakes of her head before surfacing with a gasp of air.

The wind blew at her face and cooled her skull, it was pleasant...surprisingly. With one eye on the horizon, keeping watch, she slipped her legs over the other, pushing dirt and grime away. She didn't dare touch her stomach so she rubbed at her arms, shoulders and neck with her hands as much as was possible. Her face she scrubbed with her knuckles, painfully.

The rest of the bath was uneventful, except for the task of getting into her pants. By the time she was done her legs and thighs were covered in more dirt then before...and now her belly throbbed as a result. The walk up the hill to the hideout was difficult and she was winded by the time she stood at the entrance. The sun was warming, which was a change from what she normally felt under the sun.

When her eyes drifted back down from the horizon Charon was standing about 10 feet away. He was staring. It was like déjà vu.

Again they found themselves locking eyes...and she was faintly exposed, due to the thinness of her shirt. This time she didn't feel embarrassed or shy though, he did after all see more than just the expanse of her chest. He seemed to know how she felt; his eyes didn't hold any of the apprehensiveness like before. In fact, with her watching him he actually allowed his eyes to wonder over her breasts. He couldn't see everything, but more than enough to know what she looked like without anything on. She should have felt insulted but she didn't...oddly enough.

He didn't stare too long and sooner than she thought, he was looking into her eyes again.

"This..." he held up his hand, a crumpled, dirty, blue house dress dangled from his fingers, "...should help both of us."

Then he walked past her, ignoring her almost, and disappeared into the hideout. She followed, eager to sterilize her wounds and put on something that didn't reek of piss. She nearly stumbled inside, catching the attention of the ghoul accidently.

He stared again...not at her face.

She felt a weird prickling on her skin...she looked down. Goosebumps, he'd given her goosebumps.

She gulped and sat down delicately in a plastic chair, reaching out and grasping the vodka on the table. He was setting a bottle of booze on an adjacent table and placing other odd and ends around the sections, giving her looks every now and then, which she did her best to brush off.

"Did you find anymore stimpacks...or water?"

She turned to look at him and sure enough he pulled a stimpack from between his waist and one of his belt loops. He started towards her, his boots making hard sounds on the ground. Her heart beatwith each step he took...she almost winced when he pulled at her wrists, taking the vodka from her hands. He released her bounds while setting the stimpack on the table, in order to do so he had to lean over her ever so slightly. It was a purposeful movement and she felt her belly curl in something other than pain.

She didn't see him smirk but she could have sworn she felt it; the air was thick with something...that she chose to ignore. Eventually he was gone and just like that she was alone. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks and she pulled it away with a grumble. Some of the stuff that he brought, she noted, was food. Nothing wonderful, but something to fill the raw hole of her stomach. It began talking to her last night and she even dreamt of squirrel on a stick, as gross as it sounded.

He'd left the house dress on a crate in the corner and with a few glances to make sure he was gone she began removing her clothes. As she undressed she wished she'd had something to torch the clothes with. If she never saw them again she'd be happy. Ridding herself of them and the memory of the past few days was a more than welcomed treat.

For a moment she stood, bare and cold in the dim enclosure, not really thinking of the possibility of the ghoul waltzing back in.

The absence of clothing felt good...too good. Her fingers traced the outsides of her backwards 'Z', fighting the urge to scratch at them. Despite what one may think she didn't feel any loss at the damaged and twisted skin, it wasn't like scars were uncommon in the wastes and she wasn't one to flash off any bare skin. Unless you where in a settlement… skin just got you into trouble... and one had only so much luck.

She stared down her body, down the valley of her breasts, the nipples arched against the cold, down to her torn belly. Still her eyes were drawn to the stitches and ribbons of red flesh. It was a point of interest on a normally boring surface. A pit-stop. She smiled. Tentatively she began to press her fingers into the healing flesh, careful not to break the skin but to the point that she couldn't feel the details of the crusty skin. Her attention and fingers were focused on one thing, so much … that she didn't notice the dark figure half hidden behind the cement wall. The eyes shifting in their sockets over the stark skin.

He watched her, as she poured the prickling alcohol over her gunshot wound. She didn't pat the skin, just let the vodka drip down to her feet and dry on its own. The dress concealed her sooner then he'd liked, the fabric draped over her hips and shoulder loosely, still it looked nice. Before Charon left he admired how much she resembled her former self when she'd first encountered him. The pretty little vault girl was now standing before him. Quietly he slipped away before she turned to treat herself to food and the stimpack he'd gotten for her.

He heard her from against the outside wall. His head came in contact with the cement as he looked up, the sun shining in his eyes. He welcomed the burning, hoping it would distract the blood that was already flowing to his dick. He was begining to think Ahzrukhal was truly going to kill him when he returned...

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The dilemma begins...


	8. Sexual impulses are few and far between

Okay, so I wrote this intoxicated. I've gone over it like three times and I think I have sufficiently gotten rid of any spelling errors or grammatical errors, however, if not then I apologize. It's a long one. I thought of breaking it into two chapters but that would be cheap. Anyways, thanks KMN91, Kingoftheplankton, LillyWhiteRosePetals, Basique Demique, Kuroi Diamond, Kanti, and InkiBlinkiPinki they were all very inspiring and I hope I don't disappoint you all with this chapter.

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"Hurry up.", the ghoul's grumbling voice spoke to her, simulating unpleasantness as she trailed behind him. Like inky little blobs they paced their way up the cement stairs. He didn't have the patience for her to be so slow, and was desperately trying to hurry. The sooner he was done with this...the better. He frowned; it was a chant he repeated over and over in his head. 'The sooner, the better.'

They left when night fell. A bout of super mutants appeared yesterday and he didn't want the trouble, even if she was in peak condition...which she wasn't.

She cast her eyes down to his feet, watching them move mechanically ever forward. A frown fell on her face thinking of something he had said earlier, something that involved the word 'babysitter'. It would have been laughable if he had not said it with such venom. It was the first thing she heard from him when he woke her up from her afternoon nap. The tone he used was still fresh in her mind...she loathed him then at that moment as his broad figure continued to out-walk her.

"Im coming...", she grumbled, her wrists again bound and itchy. It took more energy then she would ever admit to just keep the pace he set.

It was dark, the moon was shrouded by more clouds then she could ever remembering seeing in the sky before. It was a strange night. Consistently she found herself staring up and falling behind again, which seemed to be the last time...according to Charon..

"Goddamnitt, I said hurry up!"

She flinched as he came at her with a snarl on his face. They were only a few yards away from the descending stairs of the Metro Station. He couldn't wait just a minute more for her too look up at the sky? She returned his snarl but he didn't care. He was already grabbing at her arms and yanking her with him. He had been rough with her ever since yesterday, despite the fact that he constantly mentioned she was still to be careful, that her wounds could still open if she wasn't...She winced in thought, what was the term he used...? '..on the qui vive..?' She didn't know what that meant but she understood her own lack of awareness when it came to her healing lesions.

"..hey!..", the voice came out more nasally then she intended.

Stil..she responded to him with anger.

With a hard tug she ripped her arm from his grasp and took a few steps back all the while fuming. She was sick of his treatment, even though in the back of her mind she told herself to be grateful, it could have been worse...way worse. Though that little voice was ignored and she opened her mouth to spew forth an insult.

"Fuck off!... I know how to walk..asshole.", she glared at him, the best bitch look she could muster and still he managed to out do her. Her smooth features were no match for his hardened ones, and he definitely looked sinister.

His eyes looked black in the night and the line of his mouth turned down in a maddening expression. She had never seen it before...and it scared her..not like the other looks she now remembered receiving.

Charon didn't know how a smoothskin could evoke such rage from him that even Akzrukhal couldn't muster in over seventy years. In a way it was exhilarating, but the feeling was beginning to ebb into mild arousal, which was not something he wanted to tempt. The last few time this is how his rage ended, it was not only embarrassing but dangerous. The more days that past the more he found himself justifying the possibility of acting on his impulses.

Even though he knew she wasn't in the best of condition to navigate the Tunnels with him...it was this or spend more idle time with her. He remembered an old saying about 'idle hands' and the 'devil'; it didn't make him feel any better. So..with out tempting fate he turned his back and began down the stairs. For a moment he didn't hear her follow him, though as he reached the bottom her footsteps began 'padding' down behind him.

He opened the chain gate, turning to look at her with the tilt of his head. The moon illuminated her as she slowly stepped down, putting two feet on each stair. The last ten steps she became engulfed in shadows and before he knew it her black figure was heading past him and through the entrance/exit. His eyes followed her before he too trailed behind her, letting the gate slam behind him. The sound was loud and he felt vaguely impressed she didn't flinch.

The inside of the Tunnels was just how he remembered it, the underlying smell of stale water and...something gaseous. He didn't think it would ever change...

The bulbs in the back must have finally broken, it looked more oppressive on second glance. His foggy eyes settled on her back, she was looking around with her fingers tied in the fabric belt of her dress, rubbing at the itchy stitched flesh.

"You know you should leave that alone...", she stared at him as he spoke, he nodded to the hands she had on her belly. She looked ashamed for a split-second before it was replaced by annoyance.

Out of the corner of his eye, while he remained transfixed on her, he noticed two small shiny dots in the darkness ahead.

He should have known instantly what they, the yellow dots, belonged to. As if on cue the familiar noise of the feral hit his eardrums, loud and long. Both her and Charon remained still, him knowing where the feral was and her oblivious.

"Shit!", she squeaked.

She knew what it was but with her situation as a prisoner she couldn't defend herself. The noised reached its peak, becoming a wet croaking yell...ending in a soft gurgle. The teeth gleamed in the dark. First its ripped face and fingers became visible in the dark, followed by the rest of its malnourished body as it trudged with good speed right at her. Its hands formed claws near its head, seeing nothing but a meal. If it wasn't a..mildly serious situation, he would have smirked at the looked of utter terror that crossed the girls face, not that he enjoyed her pain...it was...just funny; until it bit her head off.

"Get down!...Now!", he growled already with a plan of action in mind. Even to him it looked hideous and terrifying.

In the last second before the feral ghoul rounded on her she crouch down with a jerk, balling up on the floor. The move worked. The feral in turn tripped over her in its stupor and tumbled head first against the tiled wall. He'd seen and heard the squish of the feral's skull against the wall, even though it began to lurch up, no doubt ready to continue its attack on either of them.

The blunder gave Charon enough time to have his shotgun aligned perfectly with the now soft head of the feral. As soon as his buckshot hit its intended target the once intact skull exploded across everything in a three-feet radius, including the curled up vault girl on the dirty wet floor, now also bloody.

Unlike what he had originally thought, the contents of its head were more liquid based then chunky, a sheen of thick gooey paste graced the back of her, all over the dress he found for her. Secretly he winced at the thought of finding more clothing for her, it was hard the first time...maybe her luck was truly beginning to dwindle. That smell would only get worse with time.

Her head lifted slow, some red bits dribbled down her shoulders, and she made a disgusted whine. He understood, it must have been warm and already soaking through the thin dress to the skin beneath. The poor little vault girl..

"...ughnn.", he groaned for what felt like the hundredth time.

Stiffly she rose to a standing position, her head was angled in a weird way, trying to keep a slushy chunk from falling down her chest. She breathed in through her mouth, no doubt avoiding the stench. The smell was indeed horrid...and she winced turning to Charon. He looked sympathetic, and it helped...a little. She turned her eyes away and shivered in repulsion.

"...oh..god...its warm...and...ugh...help?"

Again her eyes turned up to his and her lower lip puffed out, wether it was intentional or not it had the same effect. He felt a warmth in his stomach and with an odd finesse, walked to her. He didn't even look at her as he gently grabbed the bottom of one arm and pulled her through the dark corridor. He could see better then she, but not much better.

She made pitiful sounds all the way.

The archway lead down to a lobby of sorts, here he hoped to pilfer something for her to wear. He couldn't remember wether he killed that raider girl at the start of his journey or the end, but regardless she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Suitcases and crates littered the floor but many were visibly empty, which limited his hoped considerably. If he didn't find her something fresh to wear then there were only one of two options, her keeping her clothes on and smelling was the more likely one...the other he didn't even envision, it would have been the end of his self control...that much was sure.

He let go off her and she stopped were he left her. 'Dripping' sounds echoed from her as the goo fell to the floor.

"...mnn!..", something solid slid down her back, trailing down a leg, wet and warm.

She watched his back as he went from bench to bench, rifling through rags and empty bottles. A tin can rattled near her and she kicked it absentmindedly off to the side, using it as an effective distraction. The ghoul looked up for a moment before continuing his task.

He hadn't thought of the consequences of shooting the feral in the head above her. This was his fault even if he wouldn't vocalize it and now...he was perturbed as he searched for something that didn't smell of ..pure...rot...

_Bingo.._

"Get over here.", he commanded and nodded his head while not really looking at her, sure enough she began to tip-toe towards him, still stiff.

She stood behind him, looking over his shoulder as he stretch out some raggedy green fabric; the edges looked burnt and wet..

With her eyes glued to the 'clean' dress in his hands she barely noticed him turn and strand before her. Her eyes slowly trudged up from the green dress up his leather chest...to his face. His eyes looked distant..and she was about to speak before she felt hard fingers at her breast plate. They felt hotter then she ever thought they would. She felt the color drain out of her face as he flicked one button loose, exposing the jut of her collar bone.

He had imagined peeling her dress off, a few minutes after he realized he needed to find her some fresher clothing. Off and on he'd think of popping the buttons off one by one, ignoring the smell of course; pushing the cloth aside, revealing the smooth freckled skin.

When he wrapped his fingers around the 'new' dress again he thought of disrobing her, of splaying his fingers under the fabric and pushing the dress off her shoulders...

He moaned, but it came out a groan...he had been thinking about it so vividly that he could almost feel the skin, the breath on his throat as he aroused her like she did him. He blinked feeling a tug at his brain. He paused, looking down at his hands.

A female sound filled his head and that as well brought him closer to reality. His eyes fixed on his fingers, they rested on the bare flesh of the girls chest. They lingered above the mounds of flesh, one button between two fingers. She was red faced and a look of subsiding surprise was on her features.

The situation had been surreal, he had been imagining it..visualizing it...when had his hands begun to move? When had his body begun moving with out his say-so? "...", this was an action that scared him, he hadn't realized he was doing it. He attempted to speak, still with his hands on her but nothing came out.

She didn't make a move to get away from him, just stood with those eyes slanted and that mouth parted. He hated her as much as he hated himself at that moment. He'd touched her, and wether or not it qualified under Ahzrukhal threat it didn't matter. If he hadn't surfaced above imagination he could have done much..much more. Still he couldn't take his hands from her...why? A ball of fear began swirling in his chest as a twitching sensation traveled down his arms to the tips of his fingers.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse it did...He watched in horror as his right hand drug itself along the expanse of her exposed flesh, up to cup the side of her neck. He felt like a passenger in his own body, watching himself sink into oblivion. The feel of the smooth, slightly damp flesh...his brain began to short-wire on him. The worst part was her reaction..or lack there of. Why wasn't she repulsed...? or at least surprised?

He wished she'd pull away, hit him...anything to shake him from his zombie daze.

He watched her face, taking his eyes from his wandering hands. The look only caused a pang in his stomach, a good, good pang...one that sparked a connection between his brain and his hands.

The hands on her skin were innocent compared to other hands she'd had on her, and despite the feeling to pull away she stayed; the foreign feeling of his roughened hands was even pleasant. One of his hands began to sliver cautiously between her breasts and suddenly she felt the need to speak ten-fold.

"C..char...-", she froze as he, like in his fancy, pushed the fabric off one shoulder. The other hand undid buttons...one after another...after another. He was undressing her and she let him, ignoring all of the reasons to try and stop him, not that she could if he really wanted too. She didn't think he would force her...would he? Her heart began to thump in her cheeks, in her eyes, on every piece of skin he touched.

Charon barely heard her try and speak his name, it felt like his head was filled with twine and all noise came like white noise. His mouth went dry as his eyes drank in the sight of his hands unveiling her skin. The want to fight it was beginning to die and slowly, like ink turning water his brain joined his hands. The transition of giving up was smooth and...natural, but he still managed to speak one last warning, despite the urge to rip the dress from her.

"You should stop me...", he spoke like it was the last thing he may ever say. She heard him gulp, it sounded painful and harsh. A part of her felt fear as he shakily undid the bounds on her wrists, anticipation leaked from him to her and she couldn't help feeling a mild euphoria. She held in a whimper, squeezing her eyes shut as the belt fell between them. Her arms felt raw against the 'fresh' air. Another wave of mild panic peaked and subsided. She opened her eyes and mouth ready say stop...but it didn't come out...

...besides, her dress was already falling off her, pooling to form a halo around her feet. The air was cold, really cold and goose bumps littered her skin within seconds. She was stark naked before a ghoul. It was probably...everything her father never wanted for her, but for some reason that thought didn't bother her.

For a moment he did nothing, she dared to look up, feeling the trail of his eyes over her skin. The urge to itch her stitches found her and she twitched ignoring it. Every inch of her felt tingly, anticipating the touch of a man anytime now...anytime...

Soon enough the burning heat of his hands ran down the length of her arms, making her sigh. It was welcomed against the cold, and her body greedily absorbed his warmth.

"He's going to kill me...", he murmured while, in a bout of confidence, running a clothed palm against one breast. She sucked in a breath and flinched, the feeling was shocking and almost painfully sensitive, but when the contact was gone she was left wanting more. He stopped, but did not withdraw from her. His hands laid over the tops of her ribs in an odd manner.

The air was silent. She knew he was talking about Ahzrukhal.

"..why?", she breathed the word against a small touch down her ribs by his finger tips. He wasn't doing more then touching her, and a part of her was withering at the sluggishness of his actions. She felt ashamed for wanting to lean into him, to maybe feel him on other parts of her.

He sounded like he was smirking as he spoke, "I'm not suppose to touch his object of...'desire'." He made the word sound crass, something she had never experienced, and as if to go against his point he ignored the wetness of her back and pulled her to him with a hand on her spine. His breath heated her shoulder and neck. He got closer then she had thought he would.

As he moved her closer she had a mild 'awakening', the leather of his chest was hard on her bare front, and she began to react how he wanted her to before. The idea of it 'being too late to turn back' never crossed her mind. She struggled, yanking herself back as his grip on her tightened.

He didn't want to let her go now and he proved it by growling in her ear. She stilled a moment, and he began to touch her, rubbing now down her lower back feeling the puffy tense muscles. The more she struggled the tighter he held her and eventually her belly began to ache as the pressure against him increased. He held her in an iron grip as he fondled her, her meat in his large hands. He kneaded the flesh of her backside and made an animalistic exhale into her neck.

His actions had become something much less than innocent, and she panicked. Soon his mouth was on her skin and she shivered in fear. The memory of her recent near-rape fueled her desire to escape him. He was being aggressive and ignorant of her stuggle, perhaps..she thought, she should have said stop when he told her too...

Again she fought him and this time she received a bite.

"Ahh..", it was more shocking then painful and sent an electric jolt through some imaginary root in her body.

He bit her neck again, less abusive this time as she began to feel him pull her off balance. He was trying to get her on the floor, on her back...so he could...

She gasped trying to get her now unbound arms free from his body.

"Oh god! Stop!... Charon!" She managed to pull one arm free of his grip and with it she pounded her fist on him, weakly, in the side of his head. It didn't faze him as he attempted to lean her back with his hands still shifting to other parts of her to squeeze. He was in a world of his own, one where her kicks and struggles did nothing but push him farther. In his brain she wanted him to continue and he happily obliged, only to satisfy her. Somewhere in what little sanity he had left he knew this was an inevitable reaction to his celibacy. He had been ignoring his natural impulses and they were bound to bite him in the ass sooner or later. She was just the unlucky one to be there when it happened.

She shifted her legs trying to keep herself up against his advances and the movement made him groan, she'd rubbed him the 'right' way. He barely heard her strained pleading as he finally bent her knee the wrong way and she wobbled backwards, only his arms helped her land in a position that didn't damage her.

"Noo!", she followed with a yelp and a pained moaned as they both tumbled to the floor with a 'thud'. She was trapped underneath his weight with two thick arms on either side of her. The assault she expected didn't come and she faced him but avoided his eyes, the ceiling was more interesting at this point. The floor below her was cold and sharp, something was jabbing into her lower back that felt a lot like glass. For a moment she feared her heart thumping out of her chest more then him as he stiffened above her.

"Fuck...fuck...", he murmured it over and over as he looked her over. She saw his eyes, shifting uncontrollably over her in a horrified manner. She didn't know he could have ever looked so frightened.

"...fuck...fuck...FUCK!"

He pulled off of her like she was burning and in turn burning him, in his hurriedness he'd fallen back on his ass. His eyes stared at her nude form, maybe he saw spiders on her she thought, that would explain the repulsive look.

She'd rolled on her side, bending her knees and protectively pulling her legs to herself. She didn't bothering covering herself, the shock of the past few minutes was still very..very fresh and the mixed feelings she felt just kept coming. A part of her hated herself for freaking out on him, another relieved he'd finally managed to control himself.

Quicker then he did, she recovered. For a moment she envisioned escaping him. If she wanted to avoid a repeat situation, but with Ahzrukhal, then she needed to run. To take advantage of his post-traumatic stress syndrome and run as fast as she could. This would be her opportunity...she glanced at him and the untarnished dress on the bench besides him.

He didn't see the correlation between her glances and escape. The fact that he'd almost raped her kept flooding his senses. It was sick and pleasurable at the same time, which made him feel sicker.

He didn't even move when she grabbed at the dress, fumbling twice. He didn't even look at her when she stood on shaky legs, nor did he protest when she ran off, naked and already out of breath. She was running away...escaping and all he could do was sit, replaying the events over and over in his head...wondering when he'd begun allowing his body to override his mind.

"I'm dead..."

* * *

A little trail of blood ran its way down the curve of her abdomen and disappeared between her legs as she began to slow her sprinting into a slow jog. She'd found herself at the end of a train tunnel, the light of a utility door in sight. Her feet ached, having to avoid broken glass and metal poking out of the ground.

She quickly came to a stop, leaning, naked, against the cold wall. A sign was near her head reading 'employees only'; what she should have found as slightly funny, didn't even register. She was in a twilight state as she desperately tried to catch her breath.

Yes, she admitted that she liked the ghoul. If the scenario were different she may have let him take her on that wet floor. However, she didn't want to be anywhere near Ahzrukhal...escaping was the right choice...well maybe she'd see the slime bag when she had some nice fire power to blow his head off with; that idea managed to form a small smile on her lips.

She rolled to rest her back on the wall, checking down the hall to make sure Charon had not followed her. No sign of anything..including the ghoul.

Even though she managed to catch her breath, it didn't stop the racing of her heart. She was still naked, unarmed, and now...hurt again. Her fingers ran against the thin blood trail where one of her stitches had popped, smearing it across her belly. She peered down at the wound, to her surprised it looked near healed completely, if she had gently taken the stitch out, the skin would have been fused together.. wouldn't have broken...

A pang of hatred settled in her chest thinking of how rough Charon really had been. Even if she had given into him it would have been frightening, he'd become almost...ferocious...

She took in breaths, counting to four as she inhaled and exhaled. The method worked well enough as she began to think clearly again. She gave the distance and tops of the metro platforms a good once over, seeing no sign of life she ducked into the doorway and disappeared behind the wall. In the corner she dressed quickly, dislodging a few stitches before zipping the back of the faded green dress up. She wondered if all pre-war ladies wore such pretty clothes...or if she was just 'lucky' with fashion lately.

She blushed while adjusting the dress around her hips, itching the remaining stitches with the fabric as she did so, thinking how Charon undressed her. When she thought of his method, their was little difference between the way he did so and the way the raider did. Yet her reactions were almost completly different: both instances she was a prisoner...yet Charon hadn't captured her with the intention to rape her...

A headache began to form in her temple and she knew it was fruitless to think about it. She liked Charon but he wasn't worth the possibility of her becoming some sex slave to Ahzrukhal...and that was that.

She set her mouth and searched through cabinets and desks quickly, keeping an ear out for the ghoul. She found very little, two cherry bombs and a tire iron. In her hurriedness she missed a first-aid kit on the wall.

Up one flight of stairs and down a mild slope she found herself in a dead end room. No switches, nor hidden latches lead her to believe there was some other way out.

She fumed, but... there must have been some other way. She remembered coming this way a few months back, it was after all the only way to get into D.C. from Megaton. She never remembered getting lost last time...at least not dead end lost.

Slowly she turned around, as if she already knew he was behind her. Sure enough he was in the hallway outside the archway to the room she stood in. She refused to look at his face, paying special attention to the dead radroach in the far left corner.

The room felt smaller and smaller as he got closer and closer. It felt like the air was too heavy for her lungs by the time his shadow engulfed hers. He was looking down at her and she already knew she was as close to the wall as she could be, trying to literally become..the wall.

"I'm sorry.."

The words were faint, but by the time she'd figured out what he said he was already wrapping the belt around her wrists.

When had he put her wrists together...she blinked, her face dropping as she realized he'd just captured her again. Where did her fight go? when had she decided to forget how to throw a punch..? The tire iron clattered to her feet. She shifted, avoiding it landing on her toes. By the time she'd begun fighting back it was fruitless, her movement was limited and he had her in his hands...

"..please...", now she was going to beg even if the mere thought of it was painful.

"Please...just let me go...", each word she spoke she felt more cheap. The fight just drained out of her, and she had been so close to running with her tail between her legs and she was fine with that. Now she stooped to a new low, "...don't take me to him...please...pleass.."

Her eyes watered, naturally she would have hidden them, embarrassed...but now she was going to stare up at him, hoping it would break the obligations he had to Ahzrukhal. She knew it was hopeless but it was worth a shot...no...it wasn't but she did it anyways.

He looked like it was effecting him, but the look also told her he couldn't let her go. The more she stared at him, with her glossy eyes, the more she began to feel guilty for trying to guilt him...the world worked in strange ways. She felt bad for him, maybe this was stockholm syndrome...?

"...", Charon could have said 'sorry' again but he decided it was stupid, the words were meaningless, both to him and her. He had originally been apologizing for what he'd done to her earlier...but he was too ashamed to mention it now. Instead he tugged at her arm, gesturing for her to move. She did, and the way she did it made his heart sink. The look of defeat was something she didn't even wear when she'd seen her ruined belly. It bothered him...

With an ache in his groin and in his chest he walked with her out the room, up the slope, and down the stairs back in the openness of the Metro platforms. He needed to find a way to releive the tension she had left him with..or he had left himself with...it was beginning to effect his ability to walk.

He frowned glancing at her. She had her lower lip in her mouth, chewing on it. For a moment her eyes darted to his, shifting back to whatever she had previously been staring at as she caught his eyes on her. He'd continued to stare at her as she snuck glances, with eyes now dry and...surprisingly...less upset. He found himself hoping she'd take this time to think of a plan to slaughter Ahzrukhal...he knew he would have been.

* * *

So, did I butcher it or was it a success?


	9. Bedding the hound

Here in the ninth chapter, I think the next one may be the last.. with an epilogue...or something of that nature. Anyways, big warning in this one, sex. You have been warned! Thank you Pattyne, TempestHeart (she helped edit this (-:), jane-al, Kyrsea-The Horror Movie Lover, and LillyWhiteRosePetals. Enjoy this one!

* * *

Time went by too slowly in the tunnels...or maybe it didn't.

Ever since she'd left her Pipboy behind she'd been relying on Charon to keep track of time, which...he didn't seem much better at then her. For all she knew they could have been down here eight hours...or two days, each one would have sounded plausible.

He'd left her tied to a bench that was also bolted to the floor as he went off ahead, 'clearing the way' he said. It felt like forever that she'd been sitting...on the freezing bench with her back arched painfully.

Yes...she could have lied down but it made her feel more vulnerable...as if as soon as she did relax some creature would be upon her. The feeling wasn't something new, it was what the wastes did to a person; made them afraid of shutting their eyes...or turning their backs to a dark corner.

The more she thought of it the more an uneasiness settled deep inside her chest...again she counted to four, inhaled, and exhaled. She even began counting the rhythmic drips of water on the walls.

In the dim light she counted all the tin cans that littered the floor, all the empty soda bottles...and then in a fit of mild madness, the tile cracks.

It had been only a few minutes after she'd ran out of things to count that she heard the tell-tale footsteps of the ghoul. She knew it was him, not something..'else' from the distance between his steps. Charon took large strides...

Soon enough she saw his head peer up from the broken escalators, taking two steps at a time. It was in that moment that she truly saw how large he was. The railing of the escalators only came to his mid thigh. She stared...she knew it and didn't care. He stared at her anyways...

He didn't speak, what a shock, just casually walked up to her, his now fixed shotgun leaning on one shoulder. Only when he got close enough did she see fresh dark blood scattered all over his lower body, some still new enough to dribble down his legs.

"What'd you find..?", she tried not to sound so concerned.

"Dogs."

She frowned, thinking it must have been a pack of them to produce such a large amount of juice...

He stared at her a moment, looking at her awkward position, half sitting and half leaning over the side of the bench. He'd bound her wrists to the leg of the bench, not thinking he'd be gone so long. She looked more than a little uncomfortable, but at this angle he could see through the slit of her dress...so he paused a moment, enjoying the view.

He found that limit before all control was lost and stopped his gaze, looking at her dirty face. She needed a bath, he noted; then again...so did he. Another image of naked skin flashed before his eyes and he winced. Even as he bent down to detached her from the bench he thought of them both..bathing. He gave up trying to fight the thoughts; instead he did his best to imagine horrible, disgusting things in conjunction to the perverted ones involving her. It seemed to working thus far and he smiled a little, feeling more confident at the moment.

She remained still as he released her from her stiff position, it felt good to straighten out her spine and alleviate the tension in her hips and shoulders.

"How long did it take you...I mean.. how long have I been here?" she cracked a vertebra in her lower spine and sighed.

"Maybe an hour...maybe two..." he eyed her as he spoke, staring at anything but the expanded slit of her dress. He thought of just getting it over with, fucking her...maybe then it would spare the both of them much unneeded trouble...well at least spare him the trouble. Like all thoughts he had regarding her he pushed them aside, instead imagining rotting, sun-charred bloatflies..their little bodies expanding with stinky gas.

Sure enough in a matter of seconds the heat in his lower body faded as well as the throbbing ache.

She wobbled as he easily lifted her up into a standing position. Her eyes focused on the bulging of his arm as he pulled her upright, the veins pulsed and the stringy muscles expanded and contracted. She wanted to touch it but was not only unable, but intimidated. She didn't want him getting the wrong idea...

"Oh.."

Her response was overdue, and she looked down not helping the heat that filled her face. He'd caught her staring, and he looked at her with those all too serious eyes.

Before she knew it he was tugging her down the, now stairs, and helping her over some large hunks of junk. She still had no shoes and had to watch were she stepped. He'd already had to pull a piece of glass from the bottom of her heal, which was still puffy and red.

As they walked she tried to find reason to speak to him. The idea of conversation was tempting, but the last thing she wanted was to come off idiotic. They didn't have much to talk about she supposed...well they did but it wasn't good to talk about 'that', not unless she wanted to open the window for a repeat of what he'd done to her. So..instead of opening her mouth she just walked, next to him, thinking about what she'd say to Ahzrukhal to lead him into a sense of tranquility..before she, if events landed in her favor, killed him. The slime bag didn't seem very strong...at least not compared to Charon.

Charon led them both down a very dark tunnel. She now realized why she ended up in a dead end...she went down the wrong tunnel. He looked at her, as if reading her thoughts and smirked. She glared, secretly enjoying his company while knowing what the future held. Again the thought of being taken by him creeped into her mind...she shivered.

He remained silent; acting as if she was wasn't there, except for the hands firmly tightened around the bottom of one of her arms. His hard hand scratched at her flesh, the slight pain kept her from thinking about sleep. Even though...sleep did sound very nice. She smiled, closing her eyes as she stepped with him down a pipe overran hallway. She wanted to reach out and pull loose a few clumped wires...just for the mild feeling of anarchy. Just a little taste of nihilism would have felt nice, but alas she was dragged upstairs and downstairs, through tunnels and around fenced corners.

"Charon...stop...", she had been thinking of complaining for maybe the past hour, the burning in her thighs became unbearable and even then she held her tongue, only when the pain reached into her belly did she say something. The fear of something inside of her rupturing helped form words in her mouth. She tried to slow her pace down, hoping he'd slow with her.

He ignored her and continued his grueling pace. She stumbled, almost falling over a piece of wrought iron sticking out of the ground.

"Shit!", she wined and tugged at his grip with a panicked expression forming on her face. "..come on...I can't..."

She gulped feeling sick, "I can't go anymore...just ...oh god...give me two minutes?", again she stumbled and he, whetherout of kindness or annoyance, slowed. Then when he saw her begin to heave he stopped, dead in his tracks, placing his other hand on her shoulder to steady her.

A rolling wave of sickness peaked and subsided, peaked and subsided until the nausea become unbearable and she began to gag. He stepped back, still holding on to her as she began to vomit into the cracks of the old train tracks. Heave after heave she expelled large amounts of watery bile, it foamed on the ground which concerned the both of them. She had radiation poisoning...

He frowned in mild shame as he pulled some hair from her face. The act felt weird and he was glad when she straightened up, finished. She spat in the corner and let out a gross groan.

He felt bad for her...as much as he tried to remain as uncaring as he could. He wasn't a bad person generally...he just did bad things. He let her hair go, draping it over one shoulder, and looking at her pale sweaty face. Sometimes he wondered what he'd be like if he wasn't bound to his employers...would he truly be an evil person or would he find that he wanted what any kind person wanted...kindness in return. He tried to ease the tension between his eyes with two massaging fingers...normally he wouldn't touch himself very often..it didn't feel nice.

She shivered and coughed, again leaning to vomit but finding nothing left to expel...tears leaked from her eyes. It seemed the only time she cried was when she vomited. She laughed, but it came out in a series of hiccups. The ghoul beside her remained motionless, hands still on her even though she didn't feel she needed the support anymore.

"When we find a bed...if we find a bed...you can sleep for a few hours.", his words gave her a mild feeling of relief...or maybe that was because she didn't have anything left to puke up...She shook her head, it didn't matter the reason, she was just happy to feel a little better.

Even though her belly still ached and her legs still burned she didn't complain when he pulled her into a slow pace. She kept her eyes ahead of her, faded her vision in and out..not really concentrating on anything in particular. The feeling of dizziness hadn't really dissipated yet...and it didn't...slowly her sight blurred into her peripherals, everything became a mishmash of shapes and lines...and soon darkness followed and her legs buckled.

* * *

Charon became the epitome of weary. The girls bound arms thumped against his chest, and her legs dangled at his hips. She'd collapsed...leaving him to continue with the extra weight, meaning her. His hands were already sore and sweaty under her knees, he'd begun leaning forward as he walked about an hour ago. Luckily he'd had yet to run into any enemies...most of them were dead...stinking carcasses now. Some of them he remembered killing..others he didn't.

He stopped, his eyes catching a bed behind some sheets of steel. It looked like an old raider outpost...but he saw no raiders. He scanned down the hallway that would take him to the museum station...no raiders. He lifted her up, then securing her back against him as he walked to the bed. As long as they remained undisturbed he decided that it was a nice pit-stop. Without the eternal frown on his face he began to removeher from him, laying her on the dry, almost clean mattress; it even smelt...alright. With the little bit of energy he had left he pulled the belt from her wrists and laid it over the head frame, allowing her to fan out on the bed.

The loss of her extra weight felt wonderful, he smiled faintly and slumped down against the bed frame. It felt good to just sit...just to stop...he groaned reaching a hand behind his neck to rub at the tender muscles. He worked them gently at first, but when they softened he kneaded deeper. He shut his eyes enjoying the relief from tension.

The area was veryquiet.. so quiet that he could hear the scrape of his bitten fingers against the equally damaged skin of his neck. It was aggravating...but the muscles in his neck softened and eased...and that was worth a lot of aggravation.

For a moment he sat, now rubbing his wrists and cracking his knuckles, thinking of the imminent future. He'd avoided thinking of what he'd face when Ahzrukhal dragged the truth out of him. He'd know easily enough what Charon had done...He gulped feeling him stomach churn. It wasn't the idea of dying...more the idea of his death being at the hands of someone so low. Even being beaten to death by that raider would have been less disappointing...

He turned, catching a glimpse of her sprawled on the mattress behind him; she was still dead to the world. An idea began touching at his brain, prodding for attention.

If Ahzrukhal was going to kill him anyways for touching her...then why didn't he attempt pursuing her further before he faced his employer? The question appeared before his eyes..like the neon signs he remembered so well; flashing and pulsing before him. He looked her over again, fingering the fabric of her dress that spilled off the bed. The idea was tempting and he couldn't think of a reason not to.

He resumed staring ahead, at the countless piles of rubble and debris. He said no a few times to the idea...then yes...then no again. He snorted as he leaned back farther against the framework...feeling the heat she emitted...he said yes.

"Yes...", he languidly spoke the word...almost hissing it. Again he said it...testing out how it sounded. It sounded bad..it sounded perverse and worst of all it sounded right. His hand twitched against his thigh, his heart sped up as he repeated yes over and over in his head. His body began getting excited, began...responding before he heard her rustle behind him. He froze and turned around quickly, eyes wide.

He nearly laughed in relief as she rolled on her side, her back to him. She was still asleep...and thank god for it. The bulge in his pants wasn't something he wanted to pretend didn't exist, not while he knew damn well she knew. He sighed deeply, letting his eyes run up and down the back of her.

For the life of him he couldn't keep his heart rate down, all he thought of was the act of fucking her. He tried to take his mind from it. He panicked...feeling his hands shake and his breath quicken. He could jump into bed with her now...he could, he told himself. She might not even fight back if he explained the situation to her. She would let him, he knew she desired him...at least enough to let him have her. He stopped, knowing he was on a dangerous course...he needed to stop justifying his need.

With his head in his hands he talked himself down. He thought of being kicked in the balls, of digging out bullets. Once the image of the naked girl founds its way into his head he was already imagining her being defiled by Ahzrukhal. He thought of stale beer, not noticing small hands on his shoulders, still trying to fill his head with everything that repulsed him.

He groaned feeling a knot in his shoulder pop and release with light pressure. His shoulders tensed a moment before relaxing as petite hands found balls of tension under the leather. The fleeting image of diseased children left his mind as he let out another groan...opening his eyes. He shifted his forehead in his hands looking down at the dirty floor. She was massaging him...

She'd scooted to him after she'd woken; he had looked so wrecked that she couldn't help it when her hands rested on his shoulders. It felt so hard that her fingers began to squeeze and rub on their own. Now she had her shins on either side of him, his shoulder in her hands.

"Sorry for earlier...I didn't-", he didn't let her finish, "No...its not your fault..." he suppressed a groan as she hit a tender spot near his shoulder blades. He sighed closing his eyes; the thought of bedding her became a big possibility as he felt some fingers grazing at the back of his neck, touching his raw exterior. She didn't mind?

He opened his eyes, shifting them to the side to see part of her in his peripherals. He heard and felt her scoot closer to him. She radiated warmth against the back of his neck and head, the feeling made him tense. She felt him tighten, gripping one hand on his shoulder while the other touched the back of his scalp and the side of his neck. She was tempting him...he should take it as an offer...he should. He told himself she wouldn't be doing this unless she wanted him to spread her legs.

He froze in her hands, and this time she stopped touching him...

She creaked the mattress, putting her feet on the floor as she brought herself closer against the back of him. His chest pounded, knowing at this point exactly what she was doing...exactly. She touched her fingers to the side of his neck, stroking the flesh that still remained. She felt him shiver against her, as she eased a few fingers under the material of his leather armor. The muscles down there were warm and she made a small noise. Each vein she touched was throbbing, pulsing and hot. She had expected him to have already had her on her back...but he was truly trying to control himself...or he didn't want her anymore...which was possible.

She shifted her lower body against him one last time, the manner was deliberate and she felt a lingering pleasure from the contact.

Before she could settle back on the bed he'd spun to face her. The action was so quick she almost screamed. He looked up at her, his head near her belly and his hands on her thighs already pulling himself up above her. She watched him, as if in slow motion, throwing her body back on the bed, towering over her. She saw his face then. He looked as if he was ready to devour her, lick her bones clean.

The bed strained under the both of them as he began shoving her dress up over her hips. He kicked her legs apart, exposing her to him. He hadn't had time or the opportunity to see this part of her yet, despite all the times he'd seen her bare already.

He growled, it looked just how he had remembered, warm and inviting. He stared, then watching her arms block his view as her hands worked on the belt buckles of his pants. His body burned...the idea of being so close to sinking into her was unbearable. He didn't wait for her to unbuckle his last belt, nor did he do it himself; he just yanked his pants down, the stiff length bobbing out of his leathers.

The cold air stung him and quickly without a word of protest from her he sank himself inside her, were he was warm and content. She squealed and he moaned. He saw her...but didn't really see her expressions as he bucked against her, driving deep.

It was a moment of clarity, he saw better, felt better, and heard better then he could ever remember. It was invigorating.

She winced, feeling fuller then she thought was possible. He hadn't pulled out of her yet, just pushing deeper in. She didn't know how he'd managed to fit himself all the way inside her..but it hurt. Her eyes stared up at him; he was watching her with distant eyes. This is what she asked for she reminded herself as he began to withdraw from her.

The pressure loosen for a moment before he inched back in, he was being slow...and she was grateful for that at least...or maybe he was just savoring it.

She arched as he, for a third time thrust into her. It didn't feel so uncomfortable anymore..not with a dull pleasure beginning to build.

He shook, now pounding into her at a rate that was something closer to what he wanted to use. He felt his balance loosen on the bed, his hands were occupied with keeping himself suspended above...he wanted to touch her. He could have been fucking anything..but he was fucking her and he wanted to know it...

She groaned as he skillfully pulled her hips into his while placing his feet on the floor. He had to crouch but this way he could touch her. With her bottom on the mattress and his hands free to pulled the dress off her completely, he began shoving himself into her over and over again.

She wasn't whining anymore...she was moaning. He grabbed at her breasts, her shoulders, her hair, reminding himself he wasn't hallucinating. He fisted her hair in his hands, grabbing at her skull and he leaned into his thrusts. He stared at her face, close enough for her to feel his breath on her. She was staring up at the ceiling, eyes flooded and forehead sweaty. She was making all sorts of noises with her mouth hung open. He grinned, watching her face contort as he angled deeper.

Normally he would have concerned himself over what the two of them looked like, fucking on a raider's old bed. With her being manhandled and him grinning like a mad man, grunting into her ear; but his mind and body was preoccupied with a more enjoyable task. He hunched over, groaning while being pulled into a tight embrace. She glued herself to him as he struggled to prod into her. The build up of the past few weeks was finally coming to a head..well...if he was being honest with himself the need had started with that night after she'd left the Ninth Circle...He couldn't describe the feeling he had then while he gave her another hard thrust.

She'd felt a pooling in her belly, the feeling escalated into a thrill and she grabbed at him, needing to be against him all of a sudden. She sighed in his ear as a series of tremors ran up her spine. She clung, riding the feeling as he strived to find his own release.

He couldn't have stopped even if a raider had popped its head around the corner and pointed a gun at him. He was so close that at that moment nothing else mattered...nothing but the pull and tug of her body around him. It had been too fucking long since he'd found himself in this position. He sucked in deep breath as her legs folded around his hips, which in turn pushed him over the edge. He felt the sharp pleasure flow out of him with a few slow unsteady plunges. He came...grunting against her chest, still thrusting slowly, enjoying the writhing of the body under and against him. How warm and soft...he drug his hands down her sides and back up in a primitive manner, still making throaty noises.

He felt loose now and more than a 'little' relaxed.

She panted beneath him...her arms long since dropped from around him to lay limply over the bed. Her legs squeezed around him absentmindedly as a hot sticky sensation began boiling inside her. He came in her...she gulped...

He stayed within her, locking eyes with her until a rattling noise echoed somewhere in the distance. He turned his head sharply, glancing back at her before pulling out. She was limp on the bed, not looking as if she heard what he heard. He smirked, staring down at her...forgetting about the noise before another rattle caught his attention.

She remained on the bed, legs dangling off the mattress as he stuffed himself back in his pants, leaving her for a moment. She lay alone, breathing in the air like it was in short supply as he disappeared down the hall, following the noise. Her mind felt wonderfully empty and the muscles all over her body felt weightless...light as a feather.

She moaned, smiling. By the time he returned she was stretching her arms above her and arching like some promiscuous being...which he didn't think she was. She seemed as eager to reach her peak as any inexperienced virgin...though he didn't think she was... at least she wasn't anymore. He found the dress on the floor at the foot of the bed frame; he plucked it up and stared down at her. She looked up at him with a meek expression...

"Guess you really are getting killed...", she smiled a little, a nervous smile that made him grin despite himself.

"Yes...but it may have been worth it."

* * *

She sat crossed legged on a bench, outside the museum station. The sun was up, but it wouldn't be for long. They had emerged a few hours before the sun would set and he decided to let her have a few moments of rest before he dragged her inside the depths of Underworld.

He had tried letting her go a couple times in the tunnels, but the last time she refused. He would just go after her again, whether he wanted to or not...and Charon was good at what he did, he would have found her eventually and it would have just been delaying the inevitable.

Her body ached...maybe from him or for him, she didn't know. He was sitting on a stairway divider above the metro entrance, a good distance from her. He was smoking, blowing amateur smoke rings as he overlooked the fox hole ridden landscape. The super mutants must have been sleeping in their radiated drain pipe...he saw none. Just vast openness between crumbling buildings. He could just make out the distinctive flapping flags of the Museum of History. It wouldn't be long before they were in Underworld and he was handing her over to Ahzrukhal. He frowned while sucking in a lung full of smoke. He didn't normally indulge in the habit but the harsh smoke somehow made him feel less uneasy.

He gave her a quick glance. She was perched on the bench; leaning forward and watching the sun turn the sky orange...along with her body. He watched her hair blow in the gust, and her eyes squint against the rays. Yes..he was admiring her...but it was something he refused to feel shameful about; besides, she was ghoul food as soon as he stepped through 'those' double doors. He felt his hands shake, the cigarette quivering near his lips. Just the thought of letting her go made his body twitch. He stared at her, taking a final drag from his cigarrette. He wanted nothing more than to steal her away and lock them both in an abandoned car tunnel for a few months. To make up for lost time...

He stared at the burning butt he'd dropped on the ground, he stepped on it...squishing it into a stain of ash. He grumbled and set towards her.

She looked over at him with those squinty eyes and scrunched up nose, hair in her mouth. His chest hurt...and not from the smoke. She gave him a small nod and stood, pulling hair from her face and setting it properly. Her wrists had been unbound ever since the bedding fiasco...he didn't have the heart to tie her up anymore. She smiled at him briefly and walked beside him, along the rubble and dirt mounts. She swayed back and forth slightly, holding back a small grin.

"I have a plan..." she whispered, reaching out to grab at the combat knife on his hip.

* * *

Was it as good as everyone hoped...? So...look forward to another nice romp and maybe an equally satisfying murder...


	10. Your moment is in

Alright, first off be warned. There is rape in this chapter..not full-fledged rape but more then you could call sexual abuse...I think. Anyways, I know its been longer to update, longer then usual, but here it is and longer then normal. Epilogue will come after this and then I'm gonna work on some updates for 'First Impressions Lead to Lessons'.

Thank you Pattyn, LillyWhiteRosePetals, Kanti, jane-al and qq (who was the one that got me off my ass to finish this chapter up, thanks for the push and hope you like the update) Hope you all like it.

* * *

The bar smelt of sweet meat, sickly sweet; that and stale beer. Ahzrukhal stood behind the sticky counter, as if the ghoul never left that three-foot radius. He was currently showing off a row of grimy teeth beneath his shriveled lips, giving her a look that could rust metal. Particles of what could have been skin flakes floated in the air, mingling with the clouds of smoke and dust. It was still a shit hole, just as she remembered.

Every other soul in the place was in the process of fleeing. Some gave her pitiful looks as they left, others just ducked their heads; as if they knew exactly what was about to take place. She felt suddenly very cold when all but her, Charon, and Ahzrukhal were gone. Her heart began to palpitate, building in its erratic tempo slowly.

The sound of the grimy voice floated into her ears like an unwanted insect.

"Ah..just when I was about to forget I ever sent you out..", he snorted laughter out his nose, "..set our 'guest' down so we may have us a...little..celebratory drink." He gestured with a hand to the bar stool on the opposite end of the bar counter, giving her another 'flashy' smile. Again he grunted when Charon, with two hands on the girls shoulder, sat her down in front of him. She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes on the various condensation stains on the counter; when looked at properly..they really did look appealing...anything looked appealing in comparison to the ghoul before her.

She could still feel Charon a foot behind her, at this point she was more worried over Charon's ability to subdue her than the threat Ahzrukhal posed. Afraid of showing anything noteworthy on her features she pushed the thought away and stayed as still as she could, hearing a faded chatter taking place. Her arms had been bound again and she stared at the buckle..one she'd torn off of Charon when..they..when they...

She nearly jumped when a hand smacked at her arm. She turned to see Charon besides her with a stern frown on his face, he was the one who'd smacked her. She pushed back the look of betrayal...

"He asked you a question smoothskin..", his voice was gruff and he glared at her, doing a fine job of acting..or was he...? perhaps he truly was pissed with her. She turned her head up and saw that Ahzrukhal was mildly furious, the normally foggy eyes now crystal clear and resentful.

"...what?..", she feigned a look of defeat and stared blankly at the evil ghoul. He smirked and began to open a bottle of whiskey.

" I asked you whether your journey had been...good?", he accentuated the last word with a smack and began to pour three shots of whiskey in coffee cup mugs. "...or...**not**?"

"...", she didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer, just narrowed her eyes at him. He made a strange attempt to whistle as he poured the alcohol, sneaking a couple odd glances at her in the process. For the most part, the ghoul was treating her like he had the first time she'd met him, as if he hadn't just sent his 'slave' out to go fetch her for him.

He didn't seem to mind her lack of an answer this time, maybe he just wanted her acknowledgment. He then turned his stare to Charon, the look demanding explanations. Like a good employee, Charon obliged.

"We got side tracked by a group of Raiders a week earlier...she took a few bullets to her stomach, but the wounds healed quick enough.", he glanced at her casually and shrugged. "Shes fine."

He frowned at Charon and sighed. He gave the girl a final grin and set the coffee mug in front of her, the other he handed to Charon, which he took and downed immediately.

"Pity...now shes got more scars...", he made a comical expression of upset in her direction and then laughed.

"How bad are they...?" Ahzrukhal leaned over the counter, and without hesitation Charon bunched up the material of her filthy dress near her thighs and lifted it. She jerked once..twice, before going deadly still. The material lifted around her hips and stretched as her stitched belly was exposed.

Beads of sweat glittered her forhead and upper lip, the knife against her back shifted with the motion and nicked at her left butt cheek. Involuntarily she began to nibble on her tongue. Charon knew the knife was there...and he was cautious to not wiggle it loose from her flimsy underwear.

Ahzrukhal, she saw, only looked at her stomach once, his eyes going elsewhere after the first initial glance. She felt oddly ashamed in that moment, knowing as if he was speaking them, the thoughts that were weaving their way around the bastards mind. She felt the jugular veins in her neck throb as her heart pumped faster.

"Well nowww, I say it's about time you drink up...", he drawled while looking the girl up and down. Ahzrukhal was all to happy to actually be seeing her right before him, in the 'flesh'...and breathing. It had been about...four weeks and he was, even though he'd never admit it, starting to give up hope. It would have been a real shit-kicker to have lost not only the sweet little vault princess..but also a valuable asset. Charon would have been a shame to have lost..

He watched the girl after she was again covered...she tasted the alcohol, her bound hands shivering and shaking the cup as she brought it to her lips. She sure was a piece of eye candy. He looked over her petite fingers and the many bruises and scratches that littered her skin. He hadn't had smooth skin under him since the dawn of the last century...and seedy thoughts crept into his mind...soon he'd be acting them out, he told himself. He poured another shot for him and Charon.

As he poured he watched his employee's mannerisms...Charon was hard to read, but after about ten years it became easier...somewhat easier. Something was fishy...and it wasn't the stench of the wastes on them either. He watched his eyes drift in her direction and then shift back to the wall...drift..and shift.

On the radio Three Dog began yammering on about the good fight and...ghoul appreciation. Ahzrukhal grumbled and flicked the switch putting them all in a realm of silence.

"Leftovers...", Ahzrukhal spoke, his tone changing from lecherous to all business.

Charon dug through his back pocket and fished out the pouch of caps, he only used about fifty when he'd seen that merchant before Super Duper Mart. He placed them on the counter, right before the relaxed hand of his employer, he dared a glanced at the girl, who looked to be crumbling into ruble.

Ahzrukhal caught the split-second glance...frowning as he poured his second shot down his throat. It burnt and heated the length of his esophagus...it felt...calming. He gave a stink eye in Charon's direction. The slave ghoul saw the look, feeling the tension boil between them almost instantly.

Ahzrukhal weighed the pouch in his grubby fingers, bouncing it a few times in his palm, all the while staring up at Charon. Something had occurred between the two...whether it was on her end or his...He couldn't say why he thought this...it was just an..inkling of a feeling. He cocked a implied brow when Charon made eye contact. Certainly, there was something...up.

He slithered his gaze over to the smooth girl, he caught her eye. She'd been looking at his with apprehensiveness...another kind of tension. She looked afraid..and not necessarily of him.

The air suddenly thickened, that in combination with the silence was becoming to much for the vault girl. Her cheeks felt swollen and her throat as dry as the wasteland. She heard her heart in her ears as Ahzrukhal looked from her to Charon, back and forth. He knew, she repeated in her mind. He fucking knew. She chewed her tongue between her teeth roughly now, keeping her lips sealed.

Charon was keeping a straight face, not allowing so much as a shifty eye peek his employer's interest, but it wasn't enough. Ahzrukhal was used to Charon's blank looks, his impeccable ability to shield his emotions...at least from him; though no amount of facades could make up for the way the vault girl looked. Her eyes were wide and staring into her un-emptied coffee cup. He could see a bead of sweat gather and drip down her slender little neck, he groaned.

He knew either he'd fucked her...or she'd fucked him...or perhaps she blew him. Regardless it wouldn't change the fun he was going to have with her, and contrary to what he may have wanted then, which was to kill his employee, he was far to valuable to do without. So, like a reasonable man, which he though he was, he simply decided on a fair punishment. A sly smile finally ebbed its way onto Ahzrukhal's features, the look may have eased him but it did the opposite for Charon and the girl. He actually saw her arms fester with goose bumps. He almost wanted to laugh.

"Well...Charon, was she worth sending you out...all that way to fetch her?"

Charon remained silent but his eyes spoke volumes enough for Ahzrukhal to understand. The slave ghoul may have been scared of certain things but death was not one of them, maybe he even wished for it from time to time. Ahzrukhal scoffed, every damn day even he himself wished for death in a small way.

"Guess I'll have to be the judge of that then...or maybe... you can be our judge?" Ahzrukhal grabbed at the vault girls arm, yanking her against the bar, spilling her cup of whiskey. Charon remained still, even as the girl's screech echoed in his head.

"..yeah..you'd like that...wouldn't you Charon, you want to hold her down for me when I do it? ...or maybe you'd like to tag team the bitch...yeah.."

Ahzrukhal resembled a vicious dog at that point. His teeth were clenched and spit covered lips, making them shiny in the yellow light.

"Keep her still.", he commanded.

Charon grabbed the girls shoulder keeping her in place, just where Ahzrukhal wanted; his only other move was the slight twitch of his lips. The girl quieted a yelp, biting her tongue, drawing coppery blood. She was sandwiched between Charon and the bar...with the gaping mouth of Ahzrukhal breathing on her face. It was putrid, he actually smelt of rotting meat. She winced and made a small struggle out of instinct. The plan... she repeated her plan over and over in her head, doing her silent four-count breaths to ease her racing heart.

She imagined the bleeding, gurgling corpse of Ahzrukhal...shivering with his last dying breaths. She savored that image as he leaned in to breathed all over her neck. She shut her eyes tight as the hands of Charon clamped down harder on her shoulders.

Charon watched as his employer sniffed and groaned into the girl, riling her up into a fright. He involuntarily squeezed her shoulders as a few waves of fury ran through him. He couldn't recall a worse punishment, a worser moment since the beginning of his servitude to him. If he was doing this just to fuck with him then the ghoul was a genius...he heard her squeak as he dug his fingers into the hallow of her collar bone. He was too angry to care.

Ahzrukhal took it as a response from him and grunted a few words into the girl's ear. She jerked in his hands, cowering back from the physical and verbal assault. He watched, thankfully, as Ahzrukhal leaned back with a dopey grin on his face and an odd glow on his pasty sick exterior. The ghoul looked turned on, and it was sick...

With his hands still securing the girl to her seat he received a glare from the ghoul, a glare that promised nothing but displeasure. He saw the corner of his lips twitch upwards and again the bastard poured himself a shot.

"Tie her down in the back..."

Charon nearly ripped the girl from her seat, the stool wobbled on its legs but did not tip. She looked damaged already as he watched Charon drag her off into the small room behind the bar. He stared ahead, hearing the door slam shut behind the both of them, along with wines and protests.

He started to pour more booze into the coffee cup, but paused...with a sick smile he brought the bottle to his lips and guzzled nearly half the remaining alcohol. He knew tonight was going to be a good night.

* * *

In that small room, the sight of the bare mattress was what caused her to whine at first. Then she increased her yells of protest, just for Ahzrukhal's 'ears' alone. She continued to make fake shrieks until Charon shoved her down on the 'bed'; this produced a real moan of pain and discomfort. She felt two more stitches loosen and slip from bruised flesh, disappearing into the material of her dress. The pain was limited as she rolled on her side to look up at Charon. He looked odd. Unflinching and distant, even in the 'privacy' of the room he didn't show her any special treatment, nor did he speak to her. The action made her feel more alone than ever she thought possible. The knife in her panties slipped farther down against her ass. She shifted her hips trying to gesture to the object under her dress.

He didn't understand the gesture or didn't see it. His hands fixed her arms to the metal frame of the bed, undoing the belt and re-doing it so she was indeed secured...and secured tightly no less. When his head dipped down as he yanked at the handi-work she shoved her face in his neck, aiming for his ear.

"..the knife...", she whispered harshly. The knew position had made it possible for the knife to nearly stab into the meat of her backside. Her face was scrunched in pain.

He looked distraught for a moment, as if he'd forgotten something very...very important. With one quick glance behind him, at the door that was just as closed as when he'd first slammed it, he pushed his hands under her body. It looked like a hug...and almost felt like one until the pain seared and he readjusted the combat knife in a more appropriate angle.

Charon felt tense, all his muscles felt swollen with discomfort as he felt the soft flesh of her back..her ass. His hands lingered on her, savoring the feel until he, regretfully, withdrew.

Immediately he realized his mistake. He shouldn't have given himself those few extra touches, now...he was thinking of her...beneath him, moaning his name. He was imagining actually getting her in that abandoned car tunnel, having her to himself for weeks...and weeks. He couldn't look at her, without looking he knew her eyes must have seemed scared, maybe even tearful. He felt more like a monster then he thought possible.

He felt himself twitch as the door behind him opened. The man of the hour stepped in, looking too proud and slimy to be real.

It felt more like she was in a raider's den, elongated and bound, waiting to be invaded...she felt bile rise in her throat at the very sight of him. He was drunk, not completely smashed but definitely cross-eyed. He stared down at her, one snake like arm disappearing behind him to 'click' the lock into place. The sound reassured her of what was about to happen, the 'click' was like a button, turning her senses on. She felt almost...confident; anticipating the moment when she would...

The rough, prickly texture of the bastard's hand engulfed her ankle. It was surprisingly cold...which made the sensation even worse than she thought it would be. The hand traveled up her calf until it reached her thigh and then suddenly her brain felt like it had siezed. She jerked her leg out of his grasp and aimed to kick him. The bastard smiled with a slight backwards lean, the leg sliced through the air; the action shifting her body off to the side. The knife, thankfully, remained unmoving.

"Hehe haaa...oh your every bit as feisty as I'd hoped for...", Ahzrukhal grinned while, in a move that seemed pre-meditated, quickly pushed her ankles deep into the mattress. The bed creaked with the action and stressed even more when she bucked her legs against the force. He was vaguely surprised she didn't struggle more...but he wasn't about to complain. Too much struggle and he wouldn't be able to fuck her properly. He liked the amount she was giving him now...and hopefully it'd stay that way.

Charon watched, as Ahzrukhal crawled over her, sitting on her hips. He tried shutting his eyes but he found that the noises were louder and the hard breathing of the both of them was something he definitely didn't want to hear more than he had to. The look on her face seemed more defiant than he'd expected. He was...impressed.

"Just stay where you are Charon...you get yourself a lesson on how to make 'em scream...", he grunted perversely as he grabbed her face with one hand, squishing her lips together in a puffy expression. She made little noise as he shoved his mouth on hers, licking and biting her in the worst of ways.

From this angle Charon could see the wide eyes of the girl, could see her legs thrusting up in the air, kicking and stretching, planting knees into the back of her assaulter. It was part of the plan, not that she needed to act repulse.

She began to gag, suffocating on his tongue. He saw her cheeks go purple and her pupils shrink. As soon as Ahzrukhal's mouth left her she turned to the side gasping and choking. She gulped up the air and shivered below him, shivering as the taste of him slipped down her throat. It felt like she had more of his saliva in her mouth than her own and she surpressed the want to vomit on herself. She gulped...ridding the taste out of her mouth as best she could.

Just a little more stuggling, she told herself, just a little bit more and then the real work would begin. She locked eyes with Charon, the sight made her pause, almost forgetting about the hands that had started to unbutton her dress.

Only when she felt the moist air on her now exposed chest did she turn her attention to the ghoul on top of her. He wasn't looking at her...well not her face at least.

She peered down from his face when she felt wetness between her breasts. There was a wet substance on her skin, clear..and slimy. She turned back up to see that he was drooling. She sneered in disgust...She was being drooled on! She stilled under him, watching as he began to fondle her clumsily...and without mercy for her sensitive flesh. It wasn't the first time she had been sexually assaulted...far from it, but this felt much more sick than the others; much more unwanted, if that were possible.

She could have looked over at Charon in the corner...but she didn't, instead she turned her cheek into the mattress and stopped her struggle. He was moving faster then she thought he would...and it was time to start acting the part before he slipped the dress off her and found the knife. She gulped, willing herself into a state of false arousal. She shifted her legs together behind him and sighed as he pulled at her breasts, bruising the tips. She choked as he twisted the tender flesh. Tears welled up at the corner of her eyes.

"oh...oh...", she moaned, a very unconvincing sound but the ghoul paused above her nonetheless. Her eyes rolled in their sockets and landed on the sight of his twisted fingers on her breasts. She moaned again, it sounded more convincing to her own ears this time; meaning it should have definitely been convincing to him. She pushed her lower lip out and nibbled on it, just for show.

"...mnn..", he twisted her nipple in between his finger roughly, turning the pink flesh red. She made a loud moan in replace of her painful groan. A sickness replaced what could have been arousal in her lower belly, though the fact that he was ripping out her stitches could have added to that feeling. He was testing her, another tweak and another pinch, she responded as if she enjoyed it. He seemed convinced...or outwardly so. He smiled, a pleased smile that she may have liked if had been on someone other than him...

"Ha!..no wonder she fucked you Charon...this one's a masochist!", he grinned now, excited. He grabbed at her dress, ripping it open down to where his body prevented more ripping. As if to prove his point he pulled out the stitches between his legs, being rough on purpose. She weakly, with one tear dripping down the side of her face, moaned. She moan alot, wanting to cry. She didn't look at what he was doing, she could feel the hot blood gather in her belly button and leak down her sides. It felt like he was pulling her intestines out.

Charon's eye twitch, his fingers rolled up into fists and then released; repeated the motion. He was actually watching this happen, watching her being torn apart...assaulted on an even grander scale than he thought possible. Even the idea of the bastard literally thrusting in and out of her was less appalling than the sight of her faking pleasure while he sat above her, ripping stitches out of her.

When the discolored tubing was all out, scattered over the bed, Ahzrukhal took his blood covered fingers and painted designs over her breasts and stomach, smearing some on her cheek and nose. She was red faced, literally, and her lip was quivering. She still let out strangled moans and managed to turn her frown upside down.

"..oh...god...ahhhhh", she struggled with the words as the pain in her belly became unbearably hot and itchy.

Charon winced at the sound, the drawn out moan ate at his mind like maggots. He wanted to leave...even more than he wanted to help her. It sounded bad..even to him, but he was being mentally skull fucked by the sight of her and him. The sounds, the sight, the heat gathering in the room all meshed into one large needle that was lodging itself in between the hemispheres of his brain.

"Haha...god I love dames like you. I love 'em!", Ahzrukhal nearly shouted as he began unbuckling his dirty pinstriped pants. She swallowed the vomit that threatened to spill out her mouth at the sight of him. She could smell him as well...pure rott. She now realized why ghouls got such a bad rep...because of ghouls like Ahzrukhal. She never rememberd Charon smelling like decomposition. She felt the weight lift from her as he crept closer to her.

Charon felt the muscles in his legs convulse, he wanted to move forward...to rip him off her. The grunting the bastard made, the thrust of his hips...jerking motions; the suckling sounds. He stood in that corner watching as the ghoul forced himself in her mouth, grasping the girls face in his hands and moving her against him. He heard a cracking noise...was his brain shattering, his mind? ...no..his teeth were cracking. He had his teeth clenched so forcefully that he felt blood pour into his mouth. He'd cracked a few teeth in his growing rage. Every intelligible thought he possessed told him to kill the bastard. To take his head in his hands and twist until he'd rendered his head from his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would be over...

When she'd told him her plan she'd made it sound as though he'd be dead before something like this would happen. She said he'd be a 'stuck pig' before he could put anything in her...well she was wrong. Why did she have to be wrong..?

"You better keep those..mph..eyes open...ahhh yeahhhhh...", Ahzruhkal grunted and pulled at the dirty hair on her scalp, ripping strands out as he fucked her mouth. Charon automatically snappd his eyes open and stared...at least, he told himself, he couldn't see her face from this angle. Ahzrukhal was being relentless...using her like he would a inanimate object and all the while she did her best to make muffled sounds of endearment; it seemed to be working. Every so often he would act as if he was going to unbuckle her wrists from the bed frame but then he'd angle her head and mouth in a different way, telling her she was a dirty...dirty girl.

"Even her mouth feels better...", Ahzrukhal sighed and looked down at her, watching himself disappear in her. He was a cruel bastard, and he was proud of it. The feeling of her mouth around him was not the best part, it was forcing Charon to watch. He was punishing both of them and it made what she was doing that much better. That much more pleasurable. He grinned, reaching for the buckle around her wrists again.

"ohh..fuck...your gonna behave...yeah you hear me." He looked down, her eyes had been shut but now they were wide open and staring up at him. She looked...convincing. His sneer widened and without easing his thrusts he yanked at the belt loops, trying to pull the tight bounds loose. He grumbled slightly before moaning.

"ugh...fuck", he paused a moment and pulled her wrists free with a groan. "..there..."

It took awhile for the feeling to come back, for a few wasteful moments her arms flopped lifelessly as he moved on her. He had released her though, and in the midst of being mouth fucked she willed her fingers to move. Soon she had her arms wrapped around his waist, continuing to play her part. In that moment he went animal on her, choking her and gagging her without mercy.

Charon gulped, swallowing blood and thick saliva. His mouth was dry now. This was it, he told himself, then she held onto the bastard. His blood began to boil, began to burn behind his eyes. His boot shifted forward on the ground. It hurt to move...the action resulting in a seizer of his leg muscles. He winced and made a painful groaning sound, which seemed to make Ahzrukhal become more brutal. Again through the pain, Charon move a single step forward. His fingers dug into the leather of his gloves, possibly ripping through the fabric itself. He'd never experience rage to the point where his vision literally went red..but it did. Again he got another step closer.

One of her hands bunched into the fabric of the dirty business suit, the other with great carefulness eased down under Ahzrukhal. Under the leg and rested at her hip. Again she gagged and felt vomit rise in the back of her throat, but she couldn't throw up. Her throat burned and tears leaked down her cheeks, her red cheeks. That hand...she concentrated on her hand, not what was in her mouth, as she arched her body up. To Ahzrukhal the action must have given him the wrong impression. He mumbled filthy things to her as he petted the side of her face. One of her fingers touched the hilt of the knife and in an instant she had it grasped in her hand, the fingers turning white.

"..ahhah...almost...", he gagged her again on purpose. "..your gonna like it here..ahhhh yeah...yes.", he had no morals, she saw him lean back...looking to be enjoying himself...

She made one final fake moan and proceeded to suck on him. He liked the sensation so much that he remained oblivious to her motives, or feel her arm wiggle under and proceed to slither between his legs.

Charon paused, the pain still sprouting through his lower body. The glint caught his attention, and for that moment he had realized he'd forgotten all about that knife. It was about fucking time...and that was all he could think of before he saw her bring 'his' combat knife, the knife that he'd killed so many with, up in the air. In his red, rage clouded vision he watched as she slammed that knife deep down into Ahzrukhals back, almost perfectly in line with his spine. Instantly Charon's vision was back, crisp and colorful as he watched her show him her own act of justice. She twisted it, pulling it like a handle as the foul ghoul arched with a mad guttural scream. The hands that had been previously guiding the girls mouth were now grasping at his back, searching out the painful intrusion, desperately wanting to pull the object out of him.

She didn't even fill her lungs with the air she desperately wanted until she was the one on top of him, her hand trapped under him along with the knife that buried itself deeper inside with the shift in positions. Her mouth hung open, spit dripping down her chin as she bashed her fist into the ghouls face. He clawed at her, jerky...spastic movements that weaken with each second. She knew she must have hit some sort of nerve...in fact she was surprised he could still move at all. Her mouth was too sore to even smile let alone grin as she watched the life drain out of him. She just sat, half straddling the dying ghoul with her mouth wrung open..used and abused; it didn't stop her from making hiccups that were meant to be laughter though.

She made some strange movement and Charon watched her loose her balance and fall off the ghoul, off the bed and thump to the floor.

Even though, Charon had wanted Ahzrukhal dead, the sight of the probably already dead ghoul caused him to panic. What happened when his employer died..? Did he die? He began to pant and sweat. What happened now..?

"..s..shhh..are..nn", he heard her but all he saw what the dead, twisted face of Ahzrukhal. Blood started to seep through the mattress and form a puddle under the bed, causing 'drip' after 'drip' of soft repetitive noise.

She was breathing heavily now, laying on that cold floor on her back, her mouth was still shiny with spit...bloody body exposed. He heard her say his name again, more clearly this time. He still didn't acknowledge her in the least. He began moving, without pain, towards the corpse. He kneeled down besides the bed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the soft call of the damaged vault girl besides him, but alas the calls were forgotten and he found himself leaning over the ghoul not knowing what to do. His mind felt empty, he questioned his own existence and his lips trembled.

A hand rested on his side, gentle and careful. The feeling didn't registered as he took in the contoured sight of Ahzrukhal...

"..cha..ron...charon?", her voice was gruff and for some reason it triggered an impulse inside his mind which told him to...kill. To kill her...kill.

In a movement that had both of them gasping he'd begun to crush her neck in his hands, his knee on her stomach. Her eyes bulging and her lips parting. He stared into her eyes..watching himself in the dialated pupils. He saw a creature...not something that was once a man. Not himself, he saw the monster. He watched her face as it turned from red to purple to blue. He watched the moster from her eyes smile at him, an evil smile.

She made a small noise, as if to tell him she was getting ready to die. His hands unclenched around her throat after that sound found its way into his skull, and instantly fear settled there. Reality settled in shortly after and his mind became clear, panic was beginning to shift to reason. He truly thought that he had just killed her...the color of her face told him that if he hadn't, then he was as close as fucking possible to it.

Her mind went blank..it felt like she had been asleep but..at the same time like she hadn't. As if when she shut her eyes her brain had rebooted, but she knew who he was and what had happened. He nearly killed her, it was something she hadn't considered.

Though, she thought, expect the unexpected.

Slowly, as if she was resurfacing from under ice cold water she began to absorb her surroundings. Charon was sitting on the bed, besides her. When had he moved her..? She was on the bed...and Ahzrukhal was not..in fact she didn't even see him in the room. Her eyes drifted around the room lazily. She felt drugged she realized, seeing, feeling and hearing everything as if she was far away from it.

"He's...he's under the bed.", she looked to Charon..she smiled, or maybe she thought she was. He didn't look happy, he looked far from it...but he at least was looking at her.

He stared at her bloody, bruised, and dirty face. For that moment he imagined what she looked like...before she stepped foot out of her vault...or maybe right when she stepped out; the real sun gracing her untarnished face. He envisioned her eyes sparkling with interest and wonder, and how her clean hair blew against the breeze. She must have looked so happy...or at least in his vision she was, but now...He looked at her, slack jawed and ruined. She looked...

He reached out and touched her face, grazing his rough fingers over her still damp cheeks. She looked not only broken...but broken and pretending not to be. He watched her mouth move, rasping sounds came out but nothing close to actual words..he'd fucked her up...maybe worse than Ahzrukhal had. He awkwardly buttoned up the last few buttons on her dress, he'd covered most of her earlier but he felt the need to cover her compleyly...for some reason.

"I'm sorry...", he ground out the words, and never had he truly meant those words more than he did now.

Before he could withdraw his hands she grabbed one thumb, it was a childish move but he let her pull his hand down to her face. She nuzzled the hand, producing a painful lift of her lips that he understood as the best smile she could give him. With his other hand he leaned in and combed the hair out of her face. She stared up at him with doe eyes and he wanted to kiss her... he frowned.

Her 'smile' grew and even though, the emotion was almost too much, on top of all the things he was feeling due to the absence of Ahzrukhal, he leaned in and touched his lips to the side of her face. He didn't really kiss her, but it was the best he could do...and she appreciated it as much as if it had been a real kiss it seemed.

* * *

I've never done rape before...even I am a little disturbed, but the next chapter won't be so filthy...at least not rape filthy. So..all in all...good or bad?


	11. Epilogue

Last chapter, Epilogue. Thanks, to everyone who reviewed the whole way through the story. I'm not too sure how to end this without leaving so many possibilities out, but here it is. I may do a non- Fallout fic after this, not too long, but I think I may have already written all I can for Fallout; unless anyone has any ideas to throw my way.

Anyways, enjoy! Oh!...and it may be a little more fluffy then I had wanted, be warned.

* * *

The room was beginning to fill with steam, turing the normally cold lifeless bathroom into a heated sauna. The girl stood behind him, closer to the stalls then was necessary. Charon had waited a few hours before picking the girl up, even though she protested at first, and sneaking her out of Underworld to the Museum bathrooms. He figured it was better then the bathrooms in the ghoul city. The last thing he wanted was someone to waltz in while he scrubbed down a naked smoothskin; especially after the things Ahzrukhal must had announced while he was out getting her 'for' him.

She sat, still clothed, on a covered toilet seat now, with her knees together...and looking at them too it seemed. He had turned all the four faucets on full blast. Hot, dim clouds rose from the water. She was surprised that water pour out at all, let alone hot water...not even megaton had hot running water...

She honestly didn't want to be here...not that the bed she'd currently been resting on was all that welcoming. Her eyes drifted over to the cascading drips down the tile walls, more rivulets gathering as the water ran. The room was on the verge of being suffocating, the steam preventing her from truly seeing Charon. He became a blurry imitation of what he once was...she blink back the fog on her eyes and saw that he had come to halt in front of her.

"..be careful...okay?...", her voice was still cracking, despite all the time she tried to clear it and swallow down the swollen lump in her throat. She couldn't see his face..but she knew he was staring down at her..maybe he was frowning.

"Come on...", he picked up her limp hand and tugged her upwards. "...you know it will make you feel better." Yes, he was right, but she couldn't help feeling stupidly stubborn.

She allowed him to pull her to the sinks, where he had begun soaking rags in the scolding water. There he sat her down on a dented trash can, it was warm, even through her dress.

Charon put his hands in the near overflowing water, dipping in to pluck out a hot, soaked rag. The temperature wasn't too hot for him..but that didn't help him figure out wether or not it was too hot for her or not, his nerves were a little more damaged then hers were. He turned after squeezing most of the water from the material, staring down at the crestfallen vault girl before him. He felt his chest tighten, a need growing that for once wasn't the need to burry himself between her thighs. It was a genuine feeling...something he barely remembered.

"...", she felt more then saw the hesitation in him, he held a hot steaming rag in one hand...but he wasn't moving, he was staring down at her. She looked up at him..the seconds passing...the confusion building.

"..what?...", she peered through the smog, trying to find his expression. She couldn't see it but he looked nervous.

"Your dress..."

For a moment she didn't understand, then she scoffed, despite how silly it sounded.

"...like..you h..have..n't...undressed meh...", she didn't mean for it to sound the way it did. She should have corrected herself after the way he shifted in his stance..but her throat was too sore. It was easier for her to just do it herself anyways..

She fumbled in the hazy atmosphere as she slipped button after button out of its hole. She wasn't modest around him anymore, unashamed...even after what took place earlier. Silently she wondered if the act Ahzrukhal had committed on her forced Charon's view on her to change...perhaps he was disgusted at the thought of taking her clothes off...of touching her...

She felt her eyes burn as she shifted her shoulders letting the now damp material slid off her and drape over the trash can. The very idea of what had occurred earlier caused her stomach to knot in a most despicable way. Again she stared off at the dripping walls...each condensation drop glittered with florescent lights.

"What do you want to eat after this...?", she couldn't help but he taken aback by how similar his tone was to her fathers.

"..eat?", she repeated and made a odd line of her mouth.

It was a weird question. She scrunched her nose as if he'd said something foul. Soon the rag hit the area above her breast and below her shoulder, it stung but she didn't mew, only deepening the lines in her face. He wiped at her skin, leaving red welts behind which rose as if it swelled her skin like an insect bite. After the initial pain of the temperature she found the whole act just as soothing as he had promised.

He made sure to be gentle to her face, the light pressure he was using would have to be halved in order for him to get anywhere near her belly. The steam prevented him from getting a good look at the wounds down there...but he knew they must have been puckered and red...maybe with hints of purple.

"I want cake..." , she smiled...and he wiped at the corners of her lips, up her cheek and over her forehead. Her voice was sounding better, he noted.

His brow crinkled together at the word. The word was familiar but he couldn't recall what it was...some food, obviously...but that was all he could remember. Maybe, he recalled, it was something sweet.

"How do you know what cake is?" He paused for a moment and then dipped the rag back in the sloshing water, ringing it out of its filth.

"..mnnn...in the Vault..", she followed him with her eyes, the fuzzy form he had become. "I had it in the...Vault...when I was younger."

She had shut her eyes when he'd started bathing her arms...finally enjoying the feeling to a greater extent. Perhaps it was the fact that he was rubbing off the feel of Ahzrukhal that felt so goddamn wonderful...or the heat; in the end it didn't really matter. She moaned just the same.

They stayed there for awhile longer, him hovering over her, bathing, and her sitting back, receiving. It was a compassionate act and both of them seemed to enjoy it, despite what the act had stemmed from.

He didn't speak to her, or answer her even when she brought up nonsense, hazy and childish questions, as if the act he was committing on her turned her into a thick-headed child. It could have been the steam, he supposed, causing her to turn foolish...and 'handsy'.

He ignored the caresses she gave his arms, his hands, his neck...anywhere she could innocently touch him, she touched. His body always betrayed him, converting his mind slowly. He groused at her as he began tentatively touching the cloth to her belly. She didn't hiss like he expected, nor did she withdraw from him.

On closer inspection he noted only a dimpling of wounds, a red splatter of small circular holes. They looked almost like driblets of blood and a few times he mistook them for such, rubbing a bit to hard for her liking.

His 'skin' was softening in the steam, making him feel like a swamp monster. The feeling solidified when she grasped at his unclothed wrist, squeezing as hard as she could, which in the end wasn't very hard at all. He almost wanted to laugh, the shaky hand of hers grasping his, defiantly. When he lifted his head to stare at her he was met with her wide brown eyes. Or maybe they were black...

She wanted to bring his hand to her breast, or maybe her thigh. A hot coil had built up in her lower belly...and it wasn't the pain. No, she had already gone numb, the heat being the most notable factor. No, she wanted him...right now, but she wouldn't say it, she couldn't ask, and he wasn't going to do anything unless she did.

So, like a failed plan she dropped her hand from his wrist and let him continue bathing her stomach. His pressure was hard now and she did wince, not that it hurt as bad as she thought...

...the next few days they spent cooped up in Underworld. Eventually the air between them had reached a plateau and they found themselves sprawled on the floor of one of the several rooms. Animals. He would later recall the way they acted, like animals. He ripped her clothes, and she tore his. At that point he wasn't afraid of being rough with her, and she seemed to think the same. They stayed in that room for nearly 24 hours. He had again taken her against the wall, over a table and then finally on the bed. Ghouls passed the locked room, slowly, as if trying to get a glimpse behind the thick blury glass. The noises no doubt arose a few questions...maybe concerned them even. Charon smirked at the thought...almost proud of inadvertently showing the colony his prowess.

That night, the day before they left. Charon lay with her in the ruined 'bed'. In the solace of the room. With only her to see him, he relaxed and took to the unmindful task of watching her every movement. Her breath, the twitch of her sleepy eyelids, the glistening of her tongue; which he could see slightly through parted lips. At first he felt ashamed of the way he was acting, now that he was spent, both mentally and physically he didn't remember exactly how to act around a woman. He couldn't remember ever being the comforting type...but even if he had been.. he had decades to forget how.

Her eyes had shut, and her breathing was becoming shallow and even. For a moment he felt panic, mild panic...as if he knew he had to do something quickly...as if he was missing an opportunity. He gulped to clear his throat and touched one hand to the hair falling off the side of her face.

"What's your name." He watched her eyes snap open, no longer sleepy like they had been for the past two hours. He stared, waiting and secretly hoping her lips would open and her name would tumble out.

* * *

Charon stood in the concrete run off ditch. It was large and sunk down from the D.C. roads about 20 feet. He was alone and the sky was beginning to darken. The wind was harsh and up the sloped run off he could see small sand storms running across the rumble. Nothing was around, nothing except him and the gusts of grit and waste. A maintenance door stood ajar a few feet from him. In his arms he held sacks, filled with various things; batteries, water, alcohol, food, ammo...even silly things like toiletries and even an eyeless teddy bear.

He'd spent the day gone, gone from the safety of the abandoned car tunnel.

He gave one last gaze to the sky, the moon's sickle-shape prodded through the clouds, waiting for its chance to illuminate the night sky once again. The sun had set...at least from this angle, and even a few stars poked out from behind the fading blue. He breathed in...the dust...the smell and the faint traces of spilled blood, before shifting in his boots and precariously opening the maintenance door. The draft of cool sticky air greeted him, as well as a soft spoken feminine 'hello'.

The door slammed behind him and the body on the under-stuffed couch stirred. Her hair covered most of her face but he could still see the smile. She was beautiful and he found himself dropping his cargo absentmindedly on a pile of mattresses.

She stretched and mewled, hair uncovering rosy cheeks. She yawned as he came closer to her, finding himself above her, and stuffing his face in the side of her warm neck.

He groaned, letting one hand wander over her near naked body. What was the point of her wearing clothes anyway, he found himself thinking. There was no point. He hadn't let her outside in days, and she didn't show any signs of wanting to leave. She was his, and she seemed content in that; running her hands over the contours of his shoulder blades.

The smirk was becoming a constant visitor to his lips, the past few days had been just a taste of the next few weeks...hell, he could spend his whole life in this tunnel. Her laying on this couch, ready for him to walk through that heavy door.

She took in a deep breath below him and he pushed his chin to his chest to see her.

"..mnn..touch me?" Her eyes were closed, the heavy lashes touching the pink cheeks like some kind of beautiful contrast. Again he smirk, dragging one hand to the rise of one breast and caressing it firmly. She cooed and smiled widely, pushing her face into the crook of her shoulder.

"What ever you say...Irene..."

* * *

It's been fun, hope you all like this one. R&R if you'd like. I'd love to know what you enjoyed about the story and what you loathed. 


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